


Broken Wings

by verhalen



Series: Learning To Fly [7]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Access Intimacy, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author is disabled, Autism Spectrum, Banter, Bisexual Male Character, Cat adoption, Cats, Concerts, Crack and Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Developing Friendships, Disability, Disabled Character, Elves Reborn As Mortal, Explicit Sexual Content, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, George the Wig, Getting Back Together, Hawaii, Het and Slash, Hot Tub, Hotel Sex, Hotels, I'm Sorry George Michael, Iceland, Interabled Relationship, Knife Play, Leash Play, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Living Together, London, M/M, Magical Realism, Major Character Injury, Massage, Master/Pet, Modern Era, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Outdoor Sex, Painting, Past Infidelity, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon, Prophetic Dreams, References to Oasis (Band), Reincarnation, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Silmarils, Some Humor, Soren being Soren, Sören Ruins "Careless Whisper", Threesome - M/M/M, Urban Fantasy, Visions in dreams, Voyeurism, Walking Canes, Weekend Trips, author is autistic, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 280,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: Sören and Nicholas are nesting together happily in Covent Garden, and Sören has loving, passionate side relationships with Karen and Geir, and a pet submissive, Craig. It looks like he's finally come out of the dark place he was in during 2014... and then his ex-fiancé Anthony comes around wanting a second chance. Anthony is now disabled after a car accident, which has made him rethink his life and priorities... he has issues from even before the accident happened. Can Sören forgive him? Can Anthony rebuild trust and find a place in Sören's life again? Will Sören's other partners accept him as part of the family? Can Anthony learn to accept himself?
Relationships: Anthony Hewlett-Johnson (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC), Fëanor/Finarfin, Fëanor/Fingolfin, Fëanor/Orodreth, Geir Strøm (OMC)/Anthony Hewlett-Johnson (OMC), Geir Strøm (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC), Karen Swanson (OFC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC), Nicholas Decaux (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC), Sören Sigurðsson (OMC)/Craig Fetherstonhaugh (OMC)
Series: Learning To Fly [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539544
Comments: 312
Kudos: 40





	1. Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Sören Sigurðsson and Anthony Hewlett-Johnson are my OMCs. Please refer to my [Transformative Works Statement](https://verhalen.dreamwidth.org/263827.html) for more information.
> 
> Nicholas Decaux is an OMC inspired by Dooku from Star Wars. I began shipping Dooku with an OC named Sev in 2016 in a (now-archive-locked) fic called [_Stuck in the Middle With You_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786491), and in 2018 wrote a modern Earth AU called [_Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787306) where Sev became a human named Sören, and Dooku evolved beyond his canonical self. He looks and sounds very similar and there are similar personality traits if you squint (such as his elegance and being formal and polite to a fault), but he is also decidedly non-villainous in my multiverse and I feel it is more fair at this point to call him an OC.
> 
>  **December 2020 update** : This story has undergone some minor edits for mental health reasons connected to the dissolution of a collaborative effort with another author, where we have mutually severed ties; Karen, Geir, Craig, Ben and Pierre are a modified pastiche of the OCs previously involved. The comments on this fic reflect the earlier version.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
>   
> banner made by me  
> 

_A profound love between two people involves, after all, the power and chance of doing profound hurt._  
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

  
_Baby, I think tonight  
We can take what was wrong  
And make it right  
Baby, it's all I know  
That you're half of the flesh  
And blood makes me whole  
I need you so_

_So take these broken wings  
And learn to fly again  
Learn to live so free  
When we hear the voices sing  
The book of love will open up  
And let us in_  
-Mr. Mister

  
  
  
 **June 2015**  
  
"Fuck. My. Life."  
  
Anthony Hewlett-Johnson winced as he turned the shower off, then grabbed onto the support bar in the shower and used it to lift himself from the shower chair to his feet. Then he winced again - this time out of breath, not able to swear aloud - as he maneuvered himself, one hand holding onto the shower bar, shaking, as he opened the glass door, then grabbed onto the sink with the other hand and took a few paces out, to where his cane was propped up against the sink counter.  
  
Once upon a time - what felt like ages ago, even though it had been mere months - he had been able to do things like shower standing up, get in and out of the shower without difficulty. He had taken that sort of mobility for granted, never thinking twice about it. Those days were over now. Even as he was getting around a little better since his release from the hospital, and his physical therapist assured him he'd be doing a little better still by the end of the year, he was permanently disabled now. There was no going back to how things were. The mere act of taking a shower felt like running a triathlon, exhausting enough that he was now doing it every other day instead of every day as he once did, because he simply did not have the energy for that - or "spoons", as he'd learned it was called by other disabled people on the Internet, using an analogy of physical and mental energy when disabled being like having a finite, limited number of spoons to eat with during the day and every little thing depleted the spoons available. Getting in and out of the shower used up at least half of his spoon count for the entire day.  
  
His day was far from done.  
  
Anthony had a towel waiting on the closed toilet seat. He sat down again and used a second towel to dry off as much as he could. Then, he used his cane to get up, leaned against the wall as he put the towel around his waist, and hobbled down the hall with his cane to his bedroom.  
  
He was on leave from Garden Court Chambers for the foreseeable future, and he had moved back into his parents' house after the accident. Some of it had been because he was no longer safe at the flat in Kingston - the other driver had been a footballer named Justin Roberts, one of the stars of the World Cup, hailed in the press as the next Beckham. Even though Roberts had been at fault, running a light and under the influence, it scarcely mattered to England supporters, all that mattered to them was that Roberts was dead. Anthony's identity had been leaked, and there were reports that the windows of his second-floor flat in Kingston-upon-Thames were bricked. But even if that had not happened, his mother had been very insistent that he come home. Anthony swallowed his pride, even as he hated needing help with chores that used to be no big deal for him before the accident.  
  
And above and beyond that, his mother had been afraid of him being alone. Elaine Hewlett-Johnson was no barrister herself - an architect by trade - but she _knew_ things, especially when her son was not OK. And Anthony had not been OK for a long time now, as much as he pretended otherwise. He hadn't been OK since his ex-fiance Sören Sigurðsson left in October 2013 - over a year and a half ago - and truthfully, he hadn't been OK since the beginning of the end, a few months before he made the fatal mistake that made Sören walk out on him. Anthony had been in a very dark place before the accident even happened, and in the first few weeks following the accident, he'd had more than one moment of thinking to himself that he wished he hadn't survived. He'd ended up saying that in front of his mother one day after a particularly demanding physical therapy session, and she had responded by going to his flat and packing his things, putting anything into storage that could not fit in her car.  
  
His mother had restored and re-designed the four-story house they lived in, while he was a small child. His boyhood room was on the second floor. Anthony had gotten to a point in his physical therapy where he could do a small flight of stairs - he had learned to hate the stair machine in his physical therapy sessions with the fire of a thousand suns - and he preferred not to. So he was in one of the guest rooms on the first floor, and the nearest bathroom was a short walk from the guest room and mercifully had a walk-in shower. Anthony's old things, right down to the mid-1990s Bush poster with Gavin Rossdale shirtless and sweaty on his wall, had been moved to the guest room on the first floor, so it almost felt the same. But it wasn't quite. And that was just as well, because he and Sören had made love in that bed in his old room - the first time he'd ever tied Sören up had in fact been in that bed. Sleeping in that bed, alone, would be rubbing salt in the wound.  
  
So here he was in Blackheath, three months after the accident. Still not ready to return to work, and he was still nervous about going out in public, moving about so awkwardly. The suave, confident persona he'd shown the world had died in the accident. He was feeling as raw and vulnerable as he ever had in his life, though he was past the point of wanting to die.  
  
And today, he was on a mission.  
  
A few days ago, a girl from his diploma conversion group named Karen, who he'd occasionally interacted with over the years in a professional capacity, had called him and asked to meet with him. The last time he'd seen Karen had been back in February - when she'd been kissing Sören at a cafe called The Raven's Roost. He'd asked his parents to go out for a few hours so he could have company, not getting into the detail of why. And it had been so long since Anthony had any sort of socialization with others - physical therapy didn't count - that his parents were delighted and went right out. Karen had come over, not knowing he'd been in the accident, and after she finished gawping and catching up with what she'd been up to over the last while, she let him know that Sören was still in love with him. Sören was now polyamorous, and in an open arrangement with at least four other partners that he'd been told of... but Anthony was willing to accept that if he had to.  
  
Of course, Sören was still angry with him over what had happened, as he'd every right to be. They needed to talk, and Sören was likely to react badly to a phone call or a text or an e-mail. Karen's parting gift to Anthony had been Sören's schedule at the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery for the next fortnight, complete with breaks, and a tip that they had a new cafe since he'd been there and Sören liked their chocolate espressos with whipped cream.  
  
Anthony still had some anxiety about showing up out of the blue. He remembered back in February when Diana Traynor, his assistant at Garden Court Chambers, had told him she'd run into Sören at The Raven's Roost, having breakfast - Sören, who was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, up voluntarily on a Saturday morning. Anthony had gone there the following week, right after his birthday, to make a heartfelt plea to start over again, and had been rejected. Even with Karen telling him Sören still loved him, he wasn't entirely sure this meeting was going to go well, and that he wasn't going to come off like some creepy stalker. Since the failed meeting in February he hadn't tried again, he didn't want Sören to feel violated. But Karen had told Anthony that Sören was unhappy, that Sören missed him. And there were no words to even do justice to the way Anthony felt without Sören.  
  
So here he was, braving his anxiety about seeing Sören again, braving his anxiety about going out in public by himself at all... and he had to decide what to wear.  
  
It was a few days after the summer solstice, hot and muggy. Anthony had plenty of suits from when he was a barrister - _still_ am _a barrister_ , he corrected himself mentally, feeling angry that he was thinking of that in the past tense. It was too hot to wear a suit without melting, especially when walking around on the cane was challenging enough to make him sweat after a short distance. It also felt like he was trying too hard, much as he knew Sören liked looking at him in a suit.  
  
And it felt like he was hiding. The windshield of Anthony's Audi had shattered in the crash, and he had a bit of scarring from the glass; he'd required stitches for some of the lacerations. The scars on his forearms and hands would fade. The scars on his chest and back were easily covered by clothing. He considered himself lucky his face had been spared. He was worried about whether Sören would want him like this, especially when he'd stopped getting waxed after the accident and his arms and legs and chest were getting a bit of a pelt. Karen had assured him that Sören would still want him, and Anthony knew that Sören was not the least bit shallow, but Anthony still felt self-conscious and he felt like he owed it to Sören to let him see the scarring on his arms, as a clue that there would be more.  
  
He looked through his closet and he considered wearing his ancient Nirvana T-shirt, a relic of the 20th century, but that felt like trying too hard in the opposite direction, showing Sören _"look, I'm totally not image-conscious at all anymore"_ and that wasn't entirely true either. The Nirvana shirt was fine for wearing around the house, or perhaps out to a gig, not that he'd been to see any concerts in what felt like forever.  
  
There was a happy medium here, and Anthony had to find it. He finally settled on jeans and a light blue button-down shirt, rolling up the sleeves. No tie. He did add his Rolex, and a pair of his more expensive brogues.  
  
He frowned in the mirror as he leaned against the sink and combed and gelled his short black hair, noticing the first few strands of grey. He was thirty-five now; it was hard to believe he'd been thirty-one when he and Sören first met, harder still to believe Sören had been twenty-six. _We were so young. God._  
  
Anthony debated whether to put in his contact lenses, or wear his wire-rimmed glasses. Sören had seen him both with and without glasses. Without won out, at least for now, though the continued standing as he put in the drops and the lenses at the sink was wearing on him. It was too bad the bathroom was a bit small for a chair at the sink.  
  
He brushed his teeth and added a touch of cologne, the kind that Sören had liked him wearing in the past, just enough that Sören could smell it in close proximity _if we make it that far_ , not enough to be overpowering. He did one last once-over in the mirror, and decided it was good enough.  
  
He sat on his bed as he called a cab, then grabbed his wallet and his house keys. He hoped and prayed the cab would be on time - he was erring on the side of showing up early, in case the cab ran late, so he wouldn't miss Sören's break.  
  
The last and final step was the one he was dreading only less slightly than seeing Sören itself. His mother was in the kitchen, getting dinner started. She paused as she watched Anthony shuffling off on his cane.  
  
"I'm going out," Anthony said.  
  
Elaine's mouth dropped slightly, then she closed it, as if she realized it was rude to show that much surprise - even though it was not usual for Anthony to be going out by himself on a day when he didn't have a medical appointment, anymore.  
  
Anthony didn't want to tell her where. Elaine had loved Sören like he was her own son, she had been devastated when Sören and Anthony broke up - she was furious with Anthony when she found out why - and Anthony didn't want to tell her he was going off to have a conversation with Sören in case it went badly, not wanting to dash her hopes. He also didn't want platitudes, or advice. He just wanted to do this, while he actually had nerve to do it. As it was, it was bad enough he'd waited three days since Karen's visit, to get his nerves up enough to go.  
  
"I may be gone for a few hours," Anthony said - allowing both for the travel time to and from Blackheath, and the fact that life was not a sitcom where things could neatly be wrapped up in a half-hour to an hour; he was prepared to linger at the National for three more hours after Sören's break to continue the conversation if necessary.  
  
 _If I'm not rejected immediately._ Anthony knew just because Karen said Sören still loved him, and it wasn't a hard no if he had "rethought his life and his priorities", didn't mean that Sören would think getting back together was a good idea. But if nothing else, they needed to talk. They needed closure.  
  
"I see," Elaine said, stirring what looked like sauce or gravy on the stove. "Will you need a ride?"  
  
Anthony shook his head vehemently. A ride would be easier than taking a taxi, but he already felt demoralized enough, never mind his mummy bringing him to and from the National. Sören wouldn't look down on him necessarily, Sören had loved Elaine too, but it was just his pride, and again, not wanting his mother to count the proverbial chickens before they'd hatched.  
  
Elaine frowned, and Anthony could almost see the gears turning in her head, playing every worst-case scenario in her mind of how Anthony could fall and re-injure himself out there. Anthony leaned against the kitchen counter as he used his free hand to give her a little pat on the shoulder. "You mustn't worry. I'll be fine." He gave a tight, reassuring smile.  
  
"You had better be. I'm making mashed potatoes."  
  
One of his comfort foods from childhood. Anthony tried not to laugh, shaking his head as he walked out of the kitchen, just in time for his cell phone to go off, the cab driver letting him know he was here.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony couldn't believe he was handing the driver an ungodly amount of money to stay in the National parking lot and wait for him instead of driving off and coming back later, but it was less anxiety-inducing to know that the driver would be there however long - or short - it took, rather than have to go through the whole process of calling again.  
  
He had arrived with some time to kill before Sören's break, though he walked slowly enough that he wondered if he would make it to the cafe before Sören did. And then once he got there, he groaned at the little queue. It wasn't as bad as he'd ever seen, but standing with a cane for a length of time was tiresome, and he worried that he wouldn't have the coffee ready by the time Sören showed up.  
  
Then the person directly in front of him, a young-looking black woman in a pixie cut, turned around and made a "go ahead of me" gesture. Anthony did, mumbling "thanks", though he was also mildly irritated, torn between being grateful for the consideration and that sharp flare of _don't you fucking pity me_.  
  
Maneuvering the two cups of coffee in their tray to the table was a small challenge, but he did it, and took a seat with his back to the wall, so he could watch the entrance. At twelve noon exactly, there he was, getting in the queue.  
  
"Sören."  
  
Sören's brown eyes widened with recognition - those beautiful brown eyes that still took his breath away. Sören's full lips parted with shock, and then Sören stepped out of the queue, hands on hips, looking ready to murder someone.  
  
"What the FUCK?" Sören yelled, not caring if he made a scene. People seated around the cafe and standing in the queue were looking at Sören now - and some at Anthony too - and Sören shook his head and folded his arms, a long-sleeved black T-shirt under his light blue scrub top, hiding his tattoos per NHS regulations. "What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking..." And then Sören exploded into a mess of his native language of Icelandic. " _Þú fokking lygari, svindlari, stykki af skít! Þú ert með einhverja fjandans taug, mæta í starfi mínu, þú helvítis fokking óheiðarlegur poki af skít_ -"  
  
Anthony rose from the table, on his cane. And that was when Sören saw it, his voice trailing off, mouth opening again once he saw it - the cane, the scarring on his arms and hands. Anthony said nothing, but gestured with his free hand to the two chocolate espressos with whipped cream on the table. "It's nice to see you too," Anthony said, knowing Sören had said nothing to that effect in Icelandic - he didn't need to speak Icelandic to get the gist of what Sören had been yelling about. And he felt a wistful ache - Sören speaking Icelandic was a turn-on for him. Even now.  
  
Perhaps especially now, Sören magnificent in his rage.  
  
Sören walked to the table and pulled out the other chair, his features and body language showing a calm that Anthony knew Sören did not feel. Anthony wasn't calm either, his heart racing, but they had already made enough of a scene.  
  
Anthony pushed a cup of coffee at him. Sören looked down at it, then back up at Anthony. He cautiously took the coffee and took a sip. There was a generous dollop of whipped cream floating on top of the espresso, enough that Sören had a daub of whipped cream on the tip of his nose when he put the cup down. It was adorable and weirdly sexy. And so very, very Sören - the brilliant neurosurgeon sitting there with whipped cream on his nose, either not knowing or not caring.  
  
 _God, I miss him._  
  
Sören looked just as Anthony remembered him from the better days of their relationship, before the haircut that had been a harbinger of all the bad things to come. His black curls were up in a loose, messy "man bun" per regulation. He still had two holes pierced in each ear, though the tanzanite and sapphire earrings Anthony had given him were now replaced by small silver balls. Sören still had a short beard... the same pretty-more-than-handsome face, long lashes over expressive brown eyes. His fingers were ringless - Anthony didn't know if he was surprised by that or not.  
  
And yet, something about Sören felt different. Sören had been the shorter of the two of them, not by much, Anthony standing six-foot-two and Sören exactly six feet. Sören had always felt a little shorter than that, somehow, a sort of vulnerability to him, Anthony feeling protective of him. Sören felt taller now. There was a steeliness there that hadn't been there when they were together, as Sören gave him a wary look over the cup of coffee. And Anthony realized it: _I put that there. I made him bitter._  
  
Anthony swallowed hard. "Hi."  
  
"Hi," Sören said, stony-faced, stony-voiced. No one could do brooding quite the way Sören could, just even a simple _hi_ felt loaded.  
  
"Hi." Anthony felt like an idiot, repeating the greeting, but there it was.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Jæja."  
  
Anthony could have _cried_. Just a simple word. He'd even missed hearing that _jæja_ , a word with what seemed like a hundred different meanings, subtle nuances. Here it felt like a "let's get on with it".  
  
"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Anthony said.  
  
"No," Sören said, and took another sip of his coffee - whipped cream still hanging off his nose.  
  
Anthony frowned, the pit of his stomach rising.  
  
"I'm pretty sure I know why you're here," Sören went on in his dark, smoky voice, his accent milder than it used to be from having lived in London for five years but still made Anthony weak, breathy and lilting, gently rolled r's. "You decided we need to talk, hmm? Get some closure?"  
  
"Something like that," Anthony said. "Or maybe a re-opening."  
  
Sören exhaled sharply. Anthony sighed too.  
  
"Look," Anthony said. "I know I fucked up."  
  
"That's a very mild way of putting it."  
  
"And I know I hurt you. I _know_. I could sit here and tell you I'm sorry, and I _am_ sorry. I wish I could take it back, I wish I hadn't done what I'd done. But I can't. I can only apologize, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to spend the entirety of your break hearing me say 'I'm sorry' a thousand times. So with the apology out of the way..." Anthony looked into Sören's eyes. "I miss you. I still love you. There's still a place for you in my heart, in my life, in my bed, if you want it. I'll understand if you say no. You have every right to, after what I did. But I'm really hoping you won't."  
  
Sören didn't respond immediately, just sipping his coffee, seeming to weigh Anthony's words. Finally Sören replied to his statement with a question. "What happened, exactly?"  
  
It wasn't an automatic no. Anthony wouldn't have necessarily expected an automatic yes, nor was Anthony surprised that Sören was asking questions before he made a decision - doctors and barristers were a great deal alike in that regard, wanting to get as much information as possible about their case. What did surprise him was the straightforwardness, the cut-the-bullshit-let's-get-right-to-it... but then, he supposed that wasn't surprising either, knowing Sören like he did. He'd just been used to people dancing around issues for too long, especially after his accident when he'd gotten a lot of polite, concerned staring - one of the reasons why he disliked going out in public alone.  
  
"What do you mean? With the accident, or with..." Anthony hated mentioning it, but here it was. "Scott."  
  
"Well, both, I guess." Sören pursed his lips. "But let's start with the accident, since that's probably a less fraught subject."  
  
"Only slightly." Anthony looked around the cafe. "I was in a car accident back in March. The other driver ran a light." Anthony then glanced around the cafe to see if anyone gave any indication of listening in. After his flat being bricked by England supporters, he didn't want to potentially risk assault if any of them were here right now. "My Audi was totalled. I had significant injuries - whiplash, concussion, dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, I needed some stitches from lacerations, and... I have a spinal contusion."  
  
"Jesus," Sören said, and let out a low whistle.  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly. "I'm in physical therapy, but there's... well, you know how it is, as someone who works on spines for a living. Only so much that can be done. I'm going to need a cane for the rest of my life, and..." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, heat flooding his cheeks. "I have a wheelchair for longer distances, if it can't be helped. I try to... not be in situations where I have to use it. But if, for example, I had to go to a large airport..."  
  
Sören nodded. Then Sören leaned back in his chair, took another sip of his espresso, and shook his head. "I had no fucking idea," he said.  
  
"Colin didn't tell you?" Colin Traynor was one of Sören's colleagues, the brother of Diana his assistant.  
  
"Colin's private now." Sören gave a bitter little smile. "He left the National in March."  
  
"Oh god, I hope you're not back to hundred hour weeks -"  
  
"No. Thank fuck. My regular hours are bad enough."  
  
A moment of silence hung there between them, and Anthony felt ready to fall apart, all of the feelings rushing back to him at the sight of Sören in front of him, still beautiful in his ridiculousness with whipped cream on his nose. Anthony wanted to kiss it off, then claim Sören's mouth and kiss him until there was nothing in the world but their kiss. And he couldn't, just yet - or at all. Anthony knew Sören knew he was trained to watch cues like body language and tone of voice, as a barrister, and Sören was carefully shielding his reactions. But there was still a sort of wall there, like he wasn't quite getting through - so close and yet so far. And it _hurt_.  
  
Then Sören broke the silence with another question. "How did you get here?"  
  
Anthony was either going to laugh, or he was going to cry. "Well you see, Sören, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, the stork brings them a baby from the cabbage patch -"  
  
Sören almost spat his coffee. "Goddammit, Anthony." He shook with silent laughter, eyes sparkling.  
  
Anthony gave him a small but genuine smile. He'd missed that laugh. "I took a cab," Anthony said matter-of-factly.  
  
"So you're not driving at all."  
  
Anthony shook his head. "I don't think I can, after -" He hated admitting this, but he sighed. "When my gran passed on -"  
  
"God, I'm sorry."  
  
Sören had met Anthea, Anthony's outrageously wealthy and eccentric maternal grandmother, a couple of times during their relationship - Anthea had gifted Sören with a genuine Fabergé egg, which Sören had left behind in the mad rush to get his things together and go that fateful day when it all came crashing down. Anthony still had the egg. Anthony loved his gran, and even though her death was not any great surprise, being on the decline as she was, it had made an already difficult year that much more difficult. And he knew Sören was fond of her, and there was genuine sympathy and regret in Sören's eyes as he took in the news.  
  
"Me too," Anthony said.  
  
"This has been a shit year for you, huh?"  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly. Then he said. "Anyway, when my gran passed on, I had to go to the funeral, of course. I really didn't want to ride in the back of my parents' car, so Mum got me a rental car and I. Had a panic attack behind the wheel. I ended up having to take a cab there and I was late, and everyone was bloody staring at me and..." Anthony winced, remembering, and then he swallowed hard. "So no, I can't drive these days. And I still have nightmares about the crash."  
  
"You have PTSD," Sören said, not a question, but a statement of fact.  
  
"Yeah, I do. I'm on an antidepressant now, but that only does so much. It's more like a volume knob for the anxiety and depression, not an off switch."  
  
"I know."  
  
Anthony hated admitting any of that, even though if it had been a friend confiding in him - not that Anthony had friends, anymore - there would be no judgment, only understanding. Anthony had learned from his time as a criminal defense barrister to walk a kilometer in someone's shoes and have empathy and compassion for people who were hurting. He saw firsthand how damaging the "stiff upper lip" culture was, especially to men - he himself had been damaged by it. But he still hated admitting just how bad things were, even as he knew Sören was himself very compassionate and kind, it was just a matter of pride, stupid as that pride may be. And yet he knew if he had any hope of repairing his relationship with Sören it was going to demand honesty, after what he'd done, no matter how painful that honesty was.  
  
"But what I should have asked," Sören went on, "is how you got here as in, my break. I find it really hard to believe that you just guessed correctly and showed up."  
  
"I didn't. Karen told me."  
  
"You..." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Karen hates you."  
  
"Hated," Anthony said. "Past tense. She called me on Saturday and came over to have a bit of a chat."  
  
Sören's mouth opened once again. The sight of his open mouth and the confused expression on his face, with the whipped cream still on the tip of his nose, set Anthony off laughing, even as he knew he probably shouldn't, he couldn't help it. Sören glared, and the look of ire on his face with the whipped cream on that cute little nose of his made it even more comical... and adorable. Anthony teared up, this time not with regret.  
  
" _What,_ " Sören growled.  
  
"You. You have whipped cream. On your nose."  
  
" _Helvítis,_ " Sören swore, reaching for a napkin from the dispenser and frantically wiping at his nose.  
  
"I'm sorry." Anthony tried to calm down, but he was still chuckling. "I almost didn't want to tell you because it was so cute."  
  
Sören glared at him again, but then his expression softened and Anthony thought he saw the faintest touch of wistfulness on Sören's face.  
  
Then Sören said, "So... Karen... told you..."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony felt a touch of guilt, like he was being a snitch, and he could tell that Sören was irritated with his girlfriend for telling him. But he wasn't going to lie about how he'd gotten the information about his schedule. "Karen came by to tell me that you..." He fought off the tears that came on as he spoke the words. "Still love me, and that... we should talk. And gave me your schedule. So here I am."  
  
"Well, she wasn't wrong." Sören took a sip of his coffee and got whipped cream on the tip of his nose for the second time.  
  
Anthony couldn't help laughing, and that was enough of a release that he cried a little, too, much as he didn't want to cry in public. "I'm sorry. You have whipped cream on your nose again -"  
  
Sören scowled harder as he wiped his nose a second time. "It's not fucking funny, you know."  
  
"No, it's not funny." Anthony grinned through his tears. "It's hilarious."  
  
"Do I look like I'm fucking here to amuse you?"  
  
"Well, yes, actually."  
  
If they had still been together, Sören very likely would have answered that with a _you're goddamn right_ and done something outlandish, like find Anthony's barrister wig - that Sören had named George - and strut around with it. Or put chips in his nose. Or any number of ridiculous things Sören was prone to doing that made Anthony fall more and more in love with him, a love that still burned even as he'd tried desperately to forget Sören and move on. But now Sören seemed to be offended by Anthony's response rather than just rolling with it, and that was a bad sign. Anthony braced himself, the pit of his stomach rising again, heart racing.  
  
" _Look,_ " Sören snapped, dark eyes flashing. "Whatever Karen told you... and I'm not going to lie and pretend I don't love you anymore, I still fucking _do_... but you think you can just waltz in here, apologize, and because you were in an accident and you're disabled now, that's some sort of big-ass fucking magic wand that unfucks all the fucking _damage_ you did and we're going to go back to exactly how things used to be?"  
  
Anthony recoiled from that as if Sören had slapped him. The brainweasel choir in the back of his head started up: _See, Karen James was wrong and you were right. He doesn't want you like_ this. _He wouldn't want you anyway, after what you did._  
  
Hot shame flared in him... and the sting of his pride. Even though his experience as a barrister had taught him to think first, then react, he still couldn't help reacting now, bristling, hearing himself hiss like a wounded cat. "You..." Anthony felt himself making a face. "You think I came all this way here because I wanted you to _pity fuck me?_ "  
  
Sören froze, his eyes wide, and Anthony saw him gulp, as if Sören realized exactly how his words had sounded. "I..."  
  
"No." Anthony leaned on his cane and rose from the table. "My disability isn't a magic wand, nor is it any sort of magical power in general that gives me a new fucking perspective and lease on life, here to dispense all sorts of... platitudes... and... and _bullshit._ I'm not here because of my accident, I'm here because Karen told me you were unhappy with us being apart and there was a chance we could fix things - I'd be here whether I had been in that accident or not, because I still bloody love you, like an idiot. When you left - when I lost you - it felt like a piece of my soul was ripped out. And I've tried to move on, but there is no moving on from _you_ , from what we had. You were special. You..." Anthony gave a shuddery sigh. "There was no replacing you. No one can hold a candle to you, and the fire of your spirit, the fire that lit up my entire world. But I guess Karen was wrong about us being able to fix things, because you... you..." Anthony pushed in the chair, even as that was a challenge to do. " _I don't want your fucking pity,_ Sören Sigurðsson." He started to limp away from the table. "I'm sorry I wasted your time today, and mine."  
  
Sören grabbed the wrist of his free hand as Anthony sidled past him. "Where do you think you're going?"  
  
" _Home._ " Anthony wrenched free of his grasp, and almost fell.  
  
And then Sören was right there, on his feet, hands reaching out, steadying him. Just before Anthony could shove him away, Sören grabbed Anthony's face and kissed him. Hard.  
  
Anthony had been waiting for that kiss for almost two years, and it was better than anything he could daydream. He groaned as their tongues met, as their tongues swirled and slid together, played, danced, teased, tasted. Sören's hands ran over Anthony's chest and Anthony felt himself break out into gooseflesh at his touch, and he felt his cock rise, straining uncomfortably in his jeans. Sören moaned into the kiss, and Anthony savored the feel of those full lips on his, the skilled tongue that could drive him crazy just by kissing, never mind everything else Sören had done with that tongue while they were together.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing hard, looking into each other's eyes. Everyone in the hospital cafe was looking at them, and some people at a table in the corner started clapping, then one of them stood up and it prompted other people seated around the cafe to stand up and applaud. A few people wolf whistled.  
  
"Feckin' f**s," came the voice of a grumpy old man.  
  
"Hey, shut it," Sören yelled, glaring in the homophobe's direction, giving the finger. "Asshole," Sören muttered under his breath.  
  
Anthony couldn't help grinning. _That_ was the Sören he remembered.  
  
Sören grinned back, and then he frowned as he looked at the clock in the cafe. "I have to go back to work soon," Sören said. Their eyes met again. "But... this conversation isn't over. We have a lot to discuss."  
  
"We do," Anthony said, nodding.  
  
"Can you come back in a few hours, or do you need to meet me at another time -"  
  
"I can wait here until your shift is over, if that works for you," Anthony said.  
  
"OK. I can meet you in the lobby, then. Although..." Sören folded his arms. "I'd rather not have the discussion _in_ the lobby if it's all the same to you. I don't really want my personal life being aired on the grounds of my workplace even more than it already has been."  
  
"I can respect that," Anthony said.  
  
"How are you for walking to Queen's Square? Would that be too far?"  
  
"No," Anthony said. "That's a short walk, I can manage it. I'll be tired and need to sit down, but there's benches."  
  
"OK. So let's do that, then." And then Sören stepped forward and gave him a hug. "I don't pity you, Anthony. I'm sorry I put my foot in my mouth -"  
  
Anthony kissed Sören's cheek. His anger had passed with the kiss - and _what_ a kiss, his head was still spinning - and he decided to go for levity to give Sören some reassurance. "Hi Sorry I Put My Foot In My Mouth."  
  
Sören giggled, and rolled his eyes. "The more things change, I guess."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony sighed. _The more my love for you stays the same. It always will._ "Yeah."  
  
  
_  
  
  
The next few hours were some of the longest of Anthony's life. It was like waiting for a verdict on one of his clients, but this time the verdict was on him, and the wait was that much more terrible. Despite the passionate, earnest kiss in the cafe, Anthony knew that things weren't quite resolved just yet, and they could go either way still. The kiss had given him a glimmer of hope... but just a glimmer.  
  
Anthony leaned on his cane and rose to his feet as he saw Sören coming. Sören gave a small little wave and then a "follow me" gesture.  
  
They walked side by side out of the lobby. Sören took Anthony's free hand, his left, giving him some extra support as they made the walk to Queen's Square. Sören wisely did not say anything on the walk there, knowing Anthony needed the extra oxygen as he hobbled along. What used to be a five-minute walk for Anthony was now easily twice that with his cane, and rather than being proud that he'd made that distance at all, he just felt irritated with himself as they took a seat on a bench, even though he knew it couldn't be helped.  
  
There was still enough sun that Sören had chosen a spot in the shade, since they were both fair-skinned and burned easily. Anthony watched as Sören took the hair out of his bun and shook his curls free. "I usually wait till I get home to do this, but I'm doing it now," Sören said. "It helps me feel more like myself."  
  
Anthony's breath caught at the sight of Sören's curls loose - he loved Sören's hair. And now he saw that Sören had been growing it out. It had been to his nape before The Haircut, and now it tumbled down to his shoulders.  
  
"You look really good," Anthony told him.  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören gave a shy little smile, crinkling his nose and biting his lower lip - _god_ , Anthony loved it when he did that - and then Sören reached out to touch his face, sending a frisson through him. "You're still just as handsome as ever."  
  
The compliment seemed genuine, and not trying to make him feel better about his disability. But before Anthony could say anything in response, Sören leaned back against the bench and looked him up and down, studying him. "OK," Sören said. "I'm gonna cut to the chase. You really, really, really fucked up."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You really, really, really, _really_ fucking hurt me."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry." Anthony looked into Sören's eyes. "And telling you I'm sorry doesn't change what happened, but it's all I've got... and a promise to do better."  
  
"I'm not finished yet," Sören said. "I need you to hear me out. Part of the problem you and I had, in hindsight, is that you never stop being a lawyer, and there are times when _I really do not need_ to be argued with -"  
  
"I'm not trying to argue with you -"  
  
"You're just proving my point -"  
  
Anthony looked down.  
  
Sören went on. "Or _negotiated_ with, or any other sort of verbal dancing around that you're prone to doing in lawyer mode. It is not time yet for you to present your case here, this is the time when I need you to _fucking listen to me._ If you can't do that, _then_ yes, you're wasting my time. And I know what I'm about to say is going to be difficult for you to hear, but you need to hear it anyway. Do you understand?"  
  
Anthony nodded.  
  
"When you cheated on me, it fucking _traumatized_ me. I had a shitty, rough childhood and adolescence, and then I was raped in Iceland, and when you and I were together, when we lived together, I finally had a home. I felt _safe._ In one single afternoon, our entire life came crashing down because _you_ had to go get your rocks off with some pretty boy from Grindr. It makes no fucking _sense_ , and it didn't just hurt in and of itself, but it's left me feeling afraid that the other shoe is going to drop. I'm pretty sure Karen told you that she and I are in an open relationship, I don't know how much she told you about my personal life, but I'm living with someone right now, and that was a big fucking step for me because of how fucking afraid I am of losing everything all over again. Trust is not easy for me, and when you betrayed my trust with what you did, you didn't just affect my ability to trust _you_ , you affected my ability to trust, period. You created a _huge_ fucking mess with what you did. Whether or not I forgive you, whether or not I give you a second chance, it does not change the consequences of your actions. It does not undo what was done."  
  
"I know," Anthony said. "I understand."  
  
"Good." Sören nodded. "If I am ever, ever, _ever_ going to trust you again, if we are _ever_ going to be together again, rebuilding that trust necessitates total and complete honesty on your part. I'm less offended by the fact that you fucked someone else, and more with the amount of lying that went into the act of procuring someone else to fuck. If at any time you had told me that you were not OK and you needed your needs met more than I could give when I was working a hundred hours a week, I would have been OK with you finding a bit on the side if I knew about it up-front and I met the person and they were OK and all of that. Hell, I would have been OK with having a threesome once things got to normal. It's not that you fucking someone else didn't bother me at all, it's more the way that it happened, than that it happened at all, if you feel me."  
  
"I do."  
  
"So the place where we start this policy of radical honesty is I want you to tell me what happened. And I don't mean the bullshit conversation we had just before I walked out the door where we both said things we probably regret."  
  
"I really, really wish I had not made that juvenile comment about Scott being..." Anthony cringed. He hated himself so much every time he thought about it. "Bigger. I just said that to piss you off, because you called me a shallow, superficial -"  
  
"So he wasn't bigger?"  
  
"He was," Anthony said, "but bigger isn't better. You were better. You were what I wanted."  
  
"And yet, you were with him -"  
  
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right, so... may I speak, now?"  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"I know you were very stressed out in those days... and so was I. A lot worse than I'd been letting on. Yes, I have a hand. But it's not the same thing as feeling skin against skin, the feeling of fucking, being fucked, pounding out that frustration, getting _lost_ for awhile. I tried to rationalize it to myself, tried to justify what I was doing, thinking that I was doing you a favor, getting my needs met in a way that didn't put pressure on you, didn't make you feel obligated. I felt like if I didn't do this I was going to explode, and things were already so tense between us..." Anthony felt the tears starting again, and he fought them. "I told myself I just needed to work out some stress. It was very clinical for me. I got a Grindr profile, I found some idiot who could be discrete and wouldn't get serious about me..." Anthony let out a shuddery sigh, full of regret. "It was the stupidest decision of my life, and not a day goes by that I don't regret it. And you have my word I would never do something like that again."  
  
"OK. Well... I don't expect you to not have other partners. I just want you to tell me if..."  
  
"I don't want anyone else," Anthony said.  
  
"Don't say that just yet," Sören said. "You never know what the future will bring. Like I said... if that changes... just tell me, is all."  
  
"I will," Anthony said. "And I'm sorry that I didn't come to you and tell you..."  
  
"Now we're getting closer to the heart of the matter." Sören nodded. "It's not just that you went behind my back to fuck Scotty2Hotty -"  
  
"Oh _good lord_ did you have to bring up that username -" Anthony facepalmed, remembering how he'd cringed when he'd seen the message on Grindr with that username, and still replied to it, thinking _I have hit an all-time low._  
  
"I did."  
  
"How do you even know about -"  
  
"I did some research," Sören said. "I wanted to know who this fucking skank was who was blowing you in my bed. You know I've seen him twice since then?"  
  
"Oh have you?" Anthony tried not to laugh at the word _skank_ in Sören's accent, or that one of the NHS's star neurosurgeons used words like _skank._ Now was not the time for laughter.  
  
"Mmm. I was in a charity bachelor auction last year and he was in it. And then I found out he was friends with Craig, my..." Sören looked away. "Well, we can get to that shortly."  
  
Karen had mentioned that name, and Anthony's curiosity was piqued, but they could take it one piece of information at a time. Anthony waited as Sören got back to his train of thought. "It's not just that you went behind my back with Scott," Sören said. "It's not just that you went behind my back and set up a Grindr account. It's the fact that you didn't talk to me _at all_ when things were going pear-shaped. I know things were tense between us. Believe me, _I know._ I know I was not easy or fun to live with when I was working a hundred hours a week. But at no time did you sit me down and try to clear the air. You said a few minutes ago that you were in worse shape than you let on. You really, _really_ should have told me that. I know you're going to tell me that you didn't want to stress me out and make me feel bad and all of that shit. But in the end, it wound up doing more damage for you to not tell me, for you to hold everything in until it got to the breaking point and do something _stupid_ , than if you had taken the risk of having a potentially difficult conversation with me about where you were at... where _we_ were at... and what you needed. And yes, again, I know you're going to tell me that you were just trying to look out for my feelings. But let's both be really real here. You were raised in that very English 'stiff upper lip' tradition. You don't like admitting 'weakness', asking for help when you need it. It's pride for you. If we're going to be together again, if we're going to _survive_ a second attempt at a relationship, and that's a very big if, you're going to cut that shit out. Stop trying to fucking 'man up' all the time and just be _human._ Especially now, with..." Sören gestured to Anthony's cane. "And whatever kind of mess your head is in from the accident."  
  
"I'll try," Anthony said.  
  
"Do or not do," Sören said. "There is no try. I'm being deadly serious. This is part of what cost us our relationship. It wasn't the cheating that ended it, it was everything surrounding the cheating. Does that make sense?"  
  
"I think it does." Anthony felt the tears coming on again, and this time he didn't hold them back. They slid down his cheeks, silently. Sören watched, his own eyes misting up, but Sören did not reach out for him to hug him and soothe him. Not yet. Anthony knew there were more festering wounds that needed to be lanced before the balm.  
  
"And that leads me to the other thing." Sören took a deep breath, looked down - weighing his words - and then looked back over at Anthony. Sören shifted in his seat on the bench, and Anthony braced himself. "So back when I told Karen I'm still in love with you, and I said that for me to reconsider a relationship with you, you'd have to demonstrate that you've rethought your life and your priorities..." Sören shook his head. "There was something very specific behind that statement."  
  
Anthony waited for it.  
  
"Your friends did a lot more damage to our relationship than you may be aware," Sören said. "And your response to what you _were_ aware of was... well, not OK. I know that you were really not into wanting to think ill of your friends, because of your history with them. But Trisha and Vincente had it in for me the entire time they pretended to be nice to me. And now here's someplace where _I_ fucked up, something _I_ should have told you, and didn't. After the haircut incident, after Trisha 'apologized'..." Sören made air quotes. "And said she really and truly wanted to be friends, and all that shit... she sent me a bouquet of flowers at work. Before you tell me how nice and thoughtful that was, she had brought up at our brunch that she studies the language of flowers. The flowers in the arrangement meant she thought I was an idiot, and hatred, and beware. I threw the bouquet away after I looked up the flower meanings, and then I didn't tell you about it because I didn't have evidence, and I didn't know if you would just believe my word against hers."  
  
"I would have," Anthony said, feeling stung. "You were my partner."  
  
"Well, that's the thing. I told you repeatedly they made me uncomfortable, and you kept shutting the discussion down. 'Don't put me in the middle', you said. I didn't know _for a fact_ that bringing up the bouquet without having it as evidence would have done any good. And, truth be told, I started to really, really resent your 'don't put me in the middle' stance. I get it that you have a history with them. But we were _engaged to be fucking married._ We were building a life together. I was trying to tell you these people were _disrespecting_ me, _hurting_ me. It hurt that it felt like by thinking you were 'in the middle', that implied they were on equal footing with your own damn partner. And by not taking a side, it felt like you were taking a side - theirs. I really don't want to tell you who you can and can't associate with, but I don't like your friends, and I don't like everything surrounding _why_ you kept that sort of company, and _that's_ what I mean by your life and your priorities -"  
  
"You may or may not be happy to know," Anthony said, his voice shaking, "that I no longer associate with them."  
  
Sören's lips made an "o".  
  
"They ghosted me after the accident," Anthony said. He winced and facepalmed, and now the tears came on again, a little harder. "I know they were never the sort of friends I could confide in, they were just people to hang out with, but it still hurt."  
  
"Of course it did."  
  
"And Sören..." Anthony exhaled sharply. "You're absolutely right. I wish I'd seen it while we were together, that they weren't really my friends - if they were really my friends they wouldn't be treating my partner like that. I'm sorry for what they put you through, and I'm sorry that I allowed it. I'm sorry that I was insecure enough to allow it, to associate with them for as long as I did, as much as I did, not let myself see through..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He broke down crying, ashamed of himself - and still stung by the rejection.  
  
Now Sören's arms were around him. Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder, crying into him, breathing in the lavender-rose scent of his shampoo. Sören pet Anthony's hair, skritched his scalp, rocked him, made soothing noises.  
  
At last Anthony pulled back. He looked into Sören's eyes as he said, "I mean it when I say the accident hasn't changed me into some sort of... Zen... fucking... guru... platitudes guy who thinks my disability is some sort of 'learning experience'. But at the same time, it did show me their true colors, and made me think about why I tolerated fake friends for as long as I did."  
  
"OK." Sören nodded. "I'm glad we touched base about that, because that..." Sören took a deep breath. He folded his hands between his knees. "That's important. That's..." Sören's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. "That's Nick, wondering why I'm not home yet. Sorry, I have to take this." Sören swiped to accept. "Hi, _elskan._ "  
  
Sören's face lit up, and Anthony heard a muffled but still-rich bass on the other end. Sören nodded and kept saying "mhm" and then he gave a nervous little laugh and said, "I'm fine, _elskan._ I ran into someone today and we're doing a bit of catching up. I'll talk to you about it when I get home, OK?"  
  
And then Anthony made out what the voice was saying. "All right, dear. As you know, I worry..."  
  
"I know. But you _shan't_ worry too hard, OK?" Sören giggled, and there was a chuckle at the other end. "I'll be home in a bit, _elskan min._ " More of the man's voice. "Mhm. OK. Love you too. Bye."  
  
Sören hit End, and then he sat with the phone for a minute, his eyes soft. Anthony felt that ache - that was _the other man_ , or one of them - the main one. And though Anthony knew going into this that Sören wasn't going to be exclusive with him, it was still going to take some getting adjusted to.  
  
Especially as Anthony's mind conjured the image of the man he'd seen Sören with at The Raven's Roost back in February, the man Sören had kissed right in front of him. Handsome, tall, trim, elegant in a severe way, silver-haired and bearded. He reminded Anthony vaguely of a dark-eyed, olive-skinned version of Mikael, the older male lover he'd had during his trip to Sweden in the early aughts. He didn't know if it was better or worse that Sören and this Nick person looked so _hot_ together, remembering that kiss he'd watched, but the man had glared at him like he was the lowest form of life on Earth and Anthony hadn't forgotten that, either.  
  
"That call was timely because now I'm coming to our last issue... for the moment," Sören said. "That was the man I live with."  
  
"His name is... Nicholas? Karen told me about him. Not much, but."  
  
Sören nodded. "Nicholas Decaux. He teaches Classics at UCL. He's sixty-six. I moved in with him first week of March."  
  
"So it's pretty serious with him, then."  
  
Sören nodded again. "I told him that I have issues about getting married." Sören gave Anthony a pointed look, and then he propped his elbow up on the seat of the bench and stroked his chin, weighing his words again. "But it is very serious with him. My heart says yes to giving you a second chance, but I have to, _have to_ talk it over with him, and _he_ may not say yes, and I have to respect that. Yes, we're in an open relationship, but it's not total anarchy. We do have boundaries for everyone."  
  
"That makes sense," Anthony said. "Karen said you guys talk about things just by virtue of, well... sharing you with your hours being what they are."  
  
"Yeah. So she told you who my other partners are, then?"  
  
"She mentioned some guy named Geir and some guy named Craig."  
  
"OK." Sören took a deep breath. "So... Nick is, I suppose you could call it, my primary partner. My nesting partner. He gets most of my time, as things currently stand. _If_ he says yes to you and I seeing each other, he's not going to want to be replaced. So if you came here today hoping that we would just go back to the way things used to be and I'd come live with you and all that..." Sören shook his head. "I'm not abandoning Nick for you, and you're going to have to share me with my other partners."  
  
"I already knew that going in." Anthony nodded. "I won't lie - it's going to take some getting adjusted to. I can't promise that I won't be jealous, or always unselfish."  
  
"I don't expect you to," Sören said, "I just want you to be honest with me, and willing to well... be adult... with everyone else involved. And on my end, I promise I will make _some_ time for you. I don't know how much time you'll get, only that you'll get it."  
  
"And everybody else, they're..." Anthony blinked, still feeling a touch of disbelief that he was even having this conversation. "They're OK with it...?"  
  
"Well, they obviously don't know you're here right now and we're talking about this, other than Karen, and probably Geir. But anyone who gets involved with me, they get the 'I'm not monogamous, don't act like you own me' speech up front. And I do have boundaries and rules I abide by, which makes it a bit easier to accept. One of the reasons why you cheating on me was as problematic as it was, is because we were barebacking. You put me at risk for a disease, Anthony."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I don't have anything, _but_ you still..."  
  
" _I know._ "  
  
"I'm going to need you to get a full battery of tests done and show me the results. On my end, I still get tested for things, but I'm also on Truvada, which..."  
  
"I know what Truvada is," Anthony said. He couldn't believe that he was about to admit this, but here he was with putting honesty into practice. "Shortly after we broke up, I, ah. Got a prescription. For when I started playing around again."  
  
"I see," Sören said. "Do you mind if I ask how long it's been since..."  
  
"The last time I was with someone? The holidays. New Year's Eve." Anthony facepalmed and rubbed his face like an annoyed wet cat, not wanting to revisit the unhappy memory. "Nothing since then. Just my hand and a toy." _Thinking of you every time._  
  
"OK."  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Anthony said, "I can, ah... renew the Truvada prescription if we..."  
  
"Yes, that would be for the best." Sören went on, "I'm fluid-bonded with all of my partners but we all get tested regularly, Karen is on birth control, and Craig is also on Truvada at my insistence," Sören said.  
  
"That sounds like there's a story there," Anthony said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"There is. Craig is a recovering addict, so he's in a higher-risk group. Hence why Truvada is mandatory for me fucking him but not mandatory for my other male partners, just a 'nice to have.'"  
  
That hung there, and then Anthony let out a low whistle. "You're dating a recovering addict?" He wondered about the potential risks to everyone's stability, if the addict relapsed, which he realized was perhaps unfair since he didn't know him, but...  
  
"'Dating' is kind of a strong word," Sören said. "Friend with benefits doesn't seem strong enough, though. He's... he's my pet." Sören blinked and then he looked Anthony in the eye. "Craig is my sub."  
  
"I didn't know you had dom tendencies. Considering..."  
  
"Well, I still have, you know... that submissive side. Not that it comes out to play very often anymore, since..."  
  
Sören didn't need to finish that sentence. Anthony blinked back more tears, grieving how he'd betrayed Sören's trust, not merely as his life partner, but he had been Sören's dominant.  
  
"But," Sören said, "I did learn how to dom from you, and... it's helped him. And it's kind of helped me too, weird as that sounds."  
  
"It doesn't sound that weird," Anthony said. "Well, all things considered. Sitting here having a conversation with my ex, possibly about to be my not-ex, who I find out is a BDSM switch and has a sub in recovery..."  
  
Sören laughed. "Yeah, welcome to my life."  
  
They sat for a moment in silence that was not entirely awkward, and finally Sören reached for his hand, and squeezed.  
  
"Any further questions?" Anthony asked. "Or any more information you need from me?"  
  
"Your number." Sören frowned a little. "I deleted it from my contacts awhile back."  
  
Sören's number was still in his contacts. Anthony gave Sören the information and then they hugged again. "I need to get going home," Sören said, "and have that talk with Nick. And I've probably given you enough information to digest for now."  
  
"Yeah, it's a lot. But I'm glad we talked."  
  
"So am I. And if nothing else, at least you know that I still love you." Sören took Anthony's hand and kissed it.  
  
Anthony got up, and Sören walked him back to the hospital. Sören offered to walk him to the taxi waiting for him in the parking lot, but even though Sören wasn't a fan of Anthony's pride, Anthony still didn't really want Sören witnessing all of that just yet. He needed to hang onto some of his dignity for the moment.  
  
Not that there was much dignity to be had as he came to the cab and saw the driver shouting at two ravens hopping on the hood. The birds just stayed there as Anthony fumbled into the seat and the driver turned the car back on and started to pull out of the parking lot.  
  
"I cannot believe these birds," the driver yelled in heavily accented English. "These damn crows."  
  
"They're ravens," Anthony muttered.  
  
"I oughta..." The driver pulled over, opened up the car door, and got out of the car with a clenched fist. "Hey! Hey you! Birds!" he yelled.  
  
Anthony tried not to laugh, not wanting to make his driver even angrier, but he couldn't help it. It was even funnier to him when the birds just stayed there, undaunted, and one of them cocked its head as if to say " _come again?_ "  
  
The driver reached out then, about to choke them, and just before Anthony could tell him not to, the birds took off in a mess of feathers, and through the window Anthony watched one of the ravens take a dump on the driver's shoulder before it flew off, croaking like it was laughing at the driver.  
  
"You see this?" The driver gestured to the shit on his shoulder as he got back in. "You see this shit? Huh?"  
  
"That is a very rare occurrence," Anthony said. "Like being struck by lightning. You should maybe buy a lottery ticket."  
  
"Bah," the driver said, and started the car again. "You buy lottery, since it's rare for you to see that, huh? I'm not gonna waste my money on that."  
  
"I already won the lottery today," Anthony said, smiling. He closed his eyes and thought of Sören. Whatever else happened from this point forward, he at least knew Sören still loved him, and that somehow made all the difference in his life.


	2. Heart Is Where The Home Is

While not as close as when he was living in Holborn, the National wasn't an obscene distance from where he lived with Nicholas in Covent Garden and when the weather was nice and Sören wasn't too tired, he usually preferred to walk to and from work as a form of exercise to stay healthy. Today, though, it was hot and muggy and he'd had a long enough day and kept Nicholas waiting enough time that he decided to take a cab home after Anthony went back.  
  
Sören watched the world roll by out the window, sitting with everything that had just happened and the surreality of it. He half-expected to see snow fall from the sky, such was the unlikelihood that he would have considered getting back together with Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. They weren't technically back together _yet_ \- not only was Sören going to have to talk to Nicholas and his other partners, but Sören was feeling a sense of uneasiness about it. He'd missed Anthony terribly, and if he was honest with himself, he had never stopped loving Anthony, even after what he did. But Anthony had still broken his heart and his trust close to two years ago, and forgiveness was a process, it didn't happen in one fell swoop. Sören was afraid of getting burned again.  
  
Even so, he remembered that kiss in the cafe - not thinking, just feeling. His heart screamed to see Anthony's brush with death, and screamed again that he'd put his foot in his mouth, wording things so that Anthony thought he thought Anthony wanted a pity fuck. Sören had sympathy for the accident, but that was different from pity. Sören thought Anthony no less of a person, or a potential partner, because of his disability. He was still Anthony.  
  
If anything, Sören wished Anthony had gotten in touch with him sooner after the accident, but he supposed that was unfair since, doing the math, it was also within a few weeks of being rejected at The Raven's Roost. The thought of Anthony's "friends" ghosting him after the accident and his gran dying and all the everything tore at Sören's heart. And while he was glad they had the talk they did at the hospital, Sören now wished he'd said a few more things, starting with _You are still beautiful to me. I want to drag you off and pound the life out of you._  
  
His mind's eye showed the lattice of scars on Anthony's forearms and hands, like he'd been through a windshield. Sören thought about tracing them with his fingers, his tongue. Then he realized, going over that detail again - Anthony's arms were hairy now.  
  
That meant he stopped waxing, stopped "manscaping".  
  
While Sören had never had a problem with Anthony's body while they were together - just the opposite - Sören had a fondness for a healthy pelt on a man... Nicholas had a hairy chest and arms and legs and Sören loved it, taking his time licking his lover all over, rubbing his nose in the fur, running his fingers through it. Sören had always secretly wished Anthony would "let himself go" with not getting waxed anymore and let his body hair grow - he knew Anthony had gotten teased about being hairy when he was younger, and Anthony had been less versatile in his past and there was an expectation in the gay community for bottoms to look a certain way. The thought of Anthony with chest hair... Sören shuddered, his cock stirring. He _wanted._  
  
Almost as if Anthony knew Sören was thinking about him, Sören's cell phone went off and he saw it was Anthony's number. Sören swiped to accept the call. "Hi," he said.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
Sören gave a nervous chuckle, and so did Anthony. Then Sören asked, "What's going on?"  
  
"I hope I'm not annoying you. I just..." Anthony gave a little sigh. "I needed to hear your voice again. Needed a confirmation that this is real, somehow."  
  
"It's definitely surreal," Sören said, "but yeah... we... took a step forward." And Sören bit his lower lip, stomach fluttering at the _needed to hear your voice again._ The hurt part of Sören cautioned him - _not so fast_ \- but that was easier said than done, when Sören was still in love with him.  
  
"I probably shouldn't keep you. I know you're likely on your way home -"  
  
"Yes, I'll be arriving any minute now. I'm gonna talk to Nick about everything."  
  
"OK. Let me know what he says."  
  
"I will. Um..." Sören scratched his head, realizing that as long as their conversation had been, there were still a couple of things he didn't know. "So you're not driving anymore?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Where are you living now? In the flat in Kingston, still -"  
  
"No." Anthony exhaled sharply. "I'll just come right out and tell you - the other driver in my accident was Justin Roberts, a footballer -"  
  
"Oh my fucking _god_ , that was all over the news. I didn't know that had been _you_ -"  
  
"Yes, that was me. My identity was protected but his fans still found out anyway and bricked my flat. Mum insisted I move back home for that and some other reasons."  
  
Sören lowered his voice in case the cab driver was eavesdropping and a football fan. "So you're in Blackheath?"  
  
"I am. And I'm... not working at the moment, hence why I could come to see you during the day on a weekday."  
  
"OK." Sören didn't judge Anthony for living with his parents again - Anthony's mobility issues after the accident as he learned to live with them would be reason enough, as would the PTSD from the accident. But Sören knew it had to be a blow to his pride, and as well as Anthony got on with his parents, he imagined Elaine was probably mothering him to death. "That's good to know, I'll put it on file."  
  
"You're welcome to come out anytime. I'm usually home unless I have physical therapy."  
  
"Like I said, I'll talk to Nick, but if everything's a go we'll talk further about it."  
  
"All right. I'll let you go -"  
  
"Yeah, we're here." The cab was just pulling up outside his flat. "I'll talk to you in a couple days, OK?"  
  
"OK. And..." Anthony's breath hitched. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Sören's eyes stung with tears, his heart aching. It had been too long, and while everything was not fixed yet, it was still a much-needed balm for the pain. "Bye, Anthony. Talk to you soon."  
  
"Have a good evening."  
  
Sören gave the phone a little kiss before he put it in his pocket, and immediately felt like an idiot for doing so. He was always a generous tipper, but he gave the cab driver a little extra above and beyond his usual generosity because he felt like breaking into song and dancing down the street.  
  
And crying.  
  
Nicholas was waiting for him in the lobby - if Sören got home from work while he was home, Nicholas customarily went down to meet him and rode up with him in the elevator, since Sören had claustrophobia and panic attacks. Nicholas was pacing a little, his brow furrowed, and Sören felt a pang of guilt that he'd been worrying. But as soon as his dark eyes saw Sören walking in, they sparkled and crinkled at the corners, Nicholas giving him a small smile that would be a big grin on anyone else.  
  
Sören could feel himself grinning back, waving like an idiot. They'd been together since February, and living together for almost four months, and the shiny new feeling of being ridiculously in love hadn't worn off yet. Just the sight of Nicholas made Sören's heart beat a little faster, eyes raking him up and down, taking in all six foot five inches of him, the trim, lean build, elegant all in black, silver hair and beard, high cheekbones, a patrician nose, bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows, and a default stern expression that softened in Sören's presence. Nicholas looked severe and intimidating, but Sören knew he was a big teddy bear, and Sören ran to him now, giggling as Nicholas pulled him close, held him tight.  
  
"Oh, sweetheart." Nicholas rained kisses over Sören's face. "How was your day?"  
  
"It was a day." Sören stood up on his tiptoes to kiss the tip of Nicholas's nose. It wasn't just the sight of Nicholas that he found delicious, but that deep, velvet voice, smooth and cultured. Sören had a weakness for voices like that - Anthony's being another, though his was a baritone while Nicholas was a bass.  
  
Nicholas pet Sören's curls and then led him into the elevator.  
  
Once the lift doors were closed behind them, Sören turned to face Nicholas - focusing on him rather than the tight enclosure, the feeling of the walls closing in - and he threw his arms around Nicholas's neck, rubbed noses with him. "Hi, Daddy." At sixty-six, Nicholas was thirty-six years older than Sören, though in excellent health and shape. Sören liked their age difference; Nicholas wasn't just his lover, but the father figure he'd never had and desperately needed.  
  
"My good boy," Nicholas husked, and claimed Sören's mouth with a kiss.  
  
They kissed and kissed on the ride up to the top floor, Sören forgetting all about the lift and just melting into the sweetness and fire. When the lift chimed they pulled apart, breathless; Sören smiled at the flush in Nicholas's cheeks, and giggled again as Nicholas wrapped an arm around his waist, leading the way to their flat. Sören felt randy, but he knew it would be awhile yet before they could play.  
  
Tobias was waiting for them at the door and began to cry loudly when Sören walked in.  
  
"Don't believe him, he's been fed already," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören laughed. Tobias followed as Sören made his way to the sink and thoroughly scrubbed his hands, and then, finally, Sören stooped down to give the tuxedo cat pettings. Tobias headbutted his hand, purring loudly. Then Tobias meowed again.  
  
"Yes, Toby, I know," Sören cooed. "I know I was gone."  
  
When Sören stood back up, he could see the pained look on Nicholas's face, the unvoiced _his name is Tobias_ , but Nicholas just shook his head with an eyeroll and a slight quirk of the lips that let Sören know he wasn't as annoyed as he was pretending to be.  
  
"I'm really sorry I didn't start dinner -"  
  
Nicholas gave a slight hand raise. "It's all right, dear. As you know, I do enjoy cooking, so I have started our meal for the evening."  
  
Sören was relieved, not just that Nicholas wasn't upset - though Nicholas didn't _expect_ him to cook, it was still something Sören liked to do so Nicholas wasn't having to do 100% of the cooking, a holdover from when Sören lived with Anthony and had caused conflict at the end - but also Sören greatly enjoyed Nicholas's cooking. "What are we having?"  
  
"Stuffed pork chops, with a side of _haricots verts_ and potatoes _au gratin_."  
  
"Oh, fuck yes." Sören grinned. Anything Nicholas made was great, but all of that sounded lovely; Sören's stomach growled with approval. "OK, I'm gonna get changed -"  
  
"All right."  
  
They usually took a little walk in the evenings, and then tai chi before bed, on the nights when they were both home. Sören didn't change into pajamas immediately, setting aside his pajama bottoms for later, but he put on his Joy Division T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, coming back downstairs as quickly as he could.  
  
Nicholas had two glasses of chardonnay ready on the coffee table, and Sören sat next to him on the couch, giving him a kiss on the cheek as soon as he was seated. Then Sören leaned on him and for a few minutes they just cuddled together, Sören's back to Nicholas's chest, one of Nicholas's arms around Sören, hand holding the glass of wine, while the other idly stroked Sören's curls. Tobias hopped up onto Sören's lap, purring and kneading, and Sören pet the cat in time to his head being rubbed and pet. _This is the life right here_. Sören closed his eyes and sighed with bliss before he took a sip of his own chardonnay.  
  
Moments like this were precious. Shortly after Sören moved in back in March, there had been the whole debacle of Craig having his second overdose, and consequently moving into Geir and Karen's guest room, which was contingent on his sobriety, and Sören had helped Craig back from the edge and pushed him to get into a treatment program; Craig was still going to the program on an outpatient basis. Things were just now, over the last month and a half, getting back to something resembling "normal", and now Sören knew he was about to drop a bomb and shake their world up again. But for these few minutes he would rest, enjoying the silence and the coziness.  
  
A few minutes was all he had before Nicholas cut to the chase. "Sören, darling..."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Why were you late?"  
  
Sören sat up and put his wine down. Tobias gave Sören a filthy look at having to adjust his position, but then he resettled into Sören's arms, kneading one of Sören's arms and purring harder. Sören took a long look at Nicholas, and Nicholas cleared his throat and said, "As you know, I'm not accusing you of -"  
  
"I didn't think you were," Sören said; Nicholas knew his history with Anthony and it was why they were in an open relationship now, where they would be radically honest about new partners up-front, not that Nicholas was seeing anybody else or had any desire to do so. "I know it's not usual for me to be late like that so you're curious or concerned -"  
  
"Exactly. I just want to make sure everything is all right." Nicholas patted him assuringly.  
  
Sören took a deep breath. "Well, yes and no."  
  
"Oh dear." Nicholas chuckled. "Is it story time?"  
  
Sören nodded. He rubbed his face, buried his face in his hands for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose before he resumed petting Tobias. "OK. I don't know any really elegant, tactful way of saying this so I'm just gonna come right out and say it. Anthony came to see me at work. I was on my break, and he was right there in the cafe."  
  
" _Anthony._ "  
  
"Já, Anthony."  
  
" _The_ Anthony. Your ex. Anthony Hewlett-Johnson."  
  
"Anthony Hewlett-Johnson," Sören said. "Came to the National today."  
  
"I take it he wasn't there for an appointment."  
  
"He wasn't," Sören said, "although it wouldn't have been out of place for him - he was in a car accident back in March."  
  
Nicholas's eyes widened. "Oh dear. Is he..."  
  
"He's not paralyzed if that's what you're asking but he had a spinal contusion and he's been told he'll be walking with a cane for the rest of his life." Sören pursed his lips. "It's the left side that's weaker. And he broke his left femur when he was twelve, so that's probably aggravated an old injury... anyway." Sören felt a little self-conscious since that wasn't his business to tell and the story behind Anthony's femur injury was tragic; Anthony had been fortunate it was _just_ his femur and not his neck or his spine. "But he has private insurance, or at least last time I knew, so he wouldn't be at an NHS hospital for treatment. Otherwise I would have heard about the accident months ago."  
  
"All right. I take it he was..." Nicholas tried to keep his expression and tone neutral, but he looked a bit perturbed. "I take it he was there to see _you._ "  
  
"He was," Sören said.  
  
Sören was dreading what came next, even though he knew this discussion had to happen. There wasn't just a chance Nicholas would say no, but Sören feared Nicholas would take it badly and it would create a rift between them. Nicholas put his wine on the coffee table; Sören put Tobias down on the floor and gave him a few loving skritches before he turned his body on the couch, and, looking at Nicholas, took his older lover's hands in his. "He came to apologize about... everything... and he wants to start over."  
  
"Like the plea he made at The Raven's Roost in my presence."  
  
"Like that, except it was... it was different this time," Sören said. "We ended up talking for a good while and clearing the air a bit, and I got a feel for what was going through his head when he fucked up. Which doesn't excuse it, and he knows it and has said as much, but..." Sören sighed, feeling a pang of regret for those last days, the hell that Anthony was going through while Sören worked a hundred hours a week and was slipping into madness.  
  
"So..." Nicholas gave a slight eyebrow raise, looking Sören in the eye. "What does this mean, exactly?"  
  
"That depends on you."  
  
Nicholas blinked slowly, and a few moments of silence passed as Nicholas considered what was said.  
  
Sören went on, "I'm not going to pretend that I don't still love him, and haven't all this time. If feelings had an on-off switch it would make life a lot easier, but they don't, and..."  
  
"I know you still love him." Nicholas gave a nod. "That was and is rather obvious to me."  
  
"And _as you know_..." Sören reached out to pat him. "I have a big heart. Still having feelings for him does not negate my feelings for you. Nor does our relationship mean that you've 'replaced' him in my heart. We live together, but what we have is still different from what I had with him. There's no real comparing of my partners. Every one of them is different, I get different things from you than I do from Karen than I do from Geir than I do from Craig. But even though you haven't replaced him in my heart, even though I still have feelings for him, the fact is that I am living here with _you_. My life is with _you_. You are my primary partner, and I don't intend on that changing. And because you are so important to me, so central, I wanted to talk to you about all of this first, instead of just automatically saying yes to him and disregarding your feelings on the subject. If you don't want me to see him on the side, I won't. But -"  
  
"But you're asking me for permission," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
Nicholas picked up his wine glass and took a sip, and so did Sören. Nicholas kept his reactions in check, and Sören knew he had a lot to think about.  
  
"I really do mean it," Sören said, "when I say I'm not planning on having him take over and push you to the side. I told him at the National that I live with you and if anything were to happen with me and him at all, it wouldn't be like how it was. And that all of that is contingent on you agreeing to let me see him in the first place."  
  
"I don't like how he treated you," Nicholas said.  
  
"Well, I don't either," Sören said. "He did apologize, and he did explain to me where his head was at when he did what he did - which doesn't excuse it, but it makes it harder to hate him."  
  
"I have concerns about him breaking your heart again."  
  
"So do I," Sören admitted. "Though, a bit less so than I would have had a few months ago. He looks..." Sören racked his brain to find the English word for it; even after living in London since 2010 where he now thought in both English and Icelandic, he still sometimes struggled with the language when emotions ran high. "Contrite. Is that the right word?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
There was another long silence, and Sören worried that it would end with a no. And he would have to respect Nicholas's feelings, since Nicholas was, indeed, his nesting partner, and Sören didn't want to give that up. But Sören was still hoping Nicholas would say yes...  
  
Nicholas finished his wine. "I have to get up and check the food," he said.  
  
Sören waited, stomach doing flip-flops, heart beating a little faster with anticipation, feeling slightly nauseated from the combination of hunger and anxiety. When Nicholas sat back down, he put an arm around Sören, as if he sensed that at least some of Sören's concern was that merely bringing this up and asking for permission would create a problem. Nicholas gently rubbed Sören's shoulder. "It's not a yes," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören looked down. _Fuck._  
  
"And it's not a no, either," Nicholas continued.  
  
Sören looked up and met his eyes.  
  
"As you know," Nicholas said, "this is all a bit sudden. I knew before we got together that you still had feelings for him, it's patently obvious. And one of the reasons why I love you as much as I do is because of that sensitive heart, knowing how deeply you love, how fiercely you love. That when you love someone, it is for life. I consider it an honor to have a place in your heart, and receive the kind of love from you that I do."  
  
Sören managed a smile at that, and reached up to stroke Nicholas's cheek. He rubbed his thumb in Nicholas's beard, enjoying the feel of it, and Nicholas allowed himself a small smile before he went on.  
  
"But it is one thing to know that you still have feelings for our ex, and to have agreed to an open relationship up front, and another thing for him to be... thrust upon me, like this. As you know, I am displeased with the way he hurt you. Even if things had ended between the two of you more amicably, you already see three other people, and you work close to seventy hours most weeks."  
  
"I know," Sören said, feeling a stab of guilt.  
  
"Currently, we find a way to make it all work, but I have concerns that adding one more partner - and one who played such a major role in your life for close to two years - is going to upset the delicate balance we've established."  
  
Sören nodded. "I understand that. And you know I would try to make sure I still make enough time for you. It helps that we live together -"  
  
"Yes. But it's still something that would take fine-tuning _if_ I agreed to it, and I am not sure right now that you risking your heart with him a second time is a good way to go. As you know, I feel very protective of you. Very... fatherly." Their eyes met, and held; Sören felt a frisson down his spine, and bit his lower lip, thinking of all the delicious Daddy/boy roleplaying these last few months. "I would feel responsible if he hurt you again, even though his actions are his own and his fault is his own. I would feel like I had done an inadequate job of protecting my boy."  
  
Sören kissed Nicholas's cheek, and Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. They rubbed noses for a few seconds, something Sören always loved, and Sören looked deep into his eyes, wanting Nicholas to see the trust there, the gratitude for taking care of him.  
  
Then Nicholas leaned back, and Tobias went over to him. Nicholas began to stroke his cat, petting Sören with his free hand. "All of that said," Nicholas said, "I know how much you love him and I do not want you to resent me for saying no. I cannot give you a yes answer right now, but I shan't give an automatic no, either. I am going to need more time to think about everything, before I can give you a response."  
  
Sören nodded. "I told Anthony you might need a few days."  
  
"I might need longer than a few days," Nicholas said. "I shan't leave you hanging on a decision for weeks, or months, but it is one I have to consider carefully, so it can't be rushed."  
  
"I understand. Thank you for being willing to consider it at all instead of just a flat-out no."  
  
"I will admit I am leaning in that direction," Nicholas said, "but I want to be fair."  
  
Sören's heart sank a little, but he also couldn't blame Nicholas for that, and at least Nicholas was giving it more time and consideration.  
  
"There is one thing that would help," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören grasped at levity, his default coping mechanism. "A blowjob?"  
  
Nicholas facepalmed, then rolled his eyes, shaking with silent laughter as his cheeks flushed pink. "Sören, dear, you're incorrigible."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
Nicholas gave him a mock glare - his dark eyes were laughing - and then he gave Sören a playful swat, which made Sören grab his nose and tweak it in response. Then Sören pretended to look serious again, and Nicholas raised an eyebrow and sobered before he spoke. "I would like to meet with him and talk to him myself, so that way I can get a better handle on... everything. As you know, I teach students for a living and I was once a priest, so I've learnt to read people -"  
  
"Which of course is why you knew I had feelings for you without being told, _oh wait you didn't._ "  
  
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "And you couldn't diagnose the symptoms of my infatuation with you either, _Mister_ Sigurdsson -" He knew Sören hated being called by his patronymic at the National. "So we're rather even, I think."  
  
Sören stuck out his tongue. "I'm just busting your ass."  
  
"And I shall be spanking yours, later."  
  
"Promises, promises."  
  
Nicholas got serious again. "My experience as a professor and a priest informs me that meeting him in person, I would be better able to tell for myself if he is sincere in his regrets and has changed, or if this is crocodile tears and he's just using you as a warm body while he feels his options are limited after the accident." Before Sören could protest, Nicholas put up a hand indicating silence. "I know you're going to defend him, but again... this is something I have to see for myself."  
  
Sören folded his arms, feeling vaguely annoyed. "It's not even so much that I'm defending him, as... well, I put my foot in my mouth at the hospital saying something that came across as him wanting a pity fuck, and... I don't pity him, and I don't think his 'options are limited'." Sören made air quotes. "There might be some guys out there who, you know, can't deal with him having a disability, but I don't think that's a disqualifier -"  
  
"I worded that badly," Nicholas said, looking pained. "I did not mean to imply that I think he has limited options, I certainly don't think disabled people are unworthy of companionship or desire or anything of the sort." At the word "desire", his cheeks turned pink. "Only that I don't know how the accident is affecting _him_ psychologically. If I was in a car accident I myself might struggle with self-image, even if you gave me assurances. That was all I meant. I apologize if it sounded prejudiced."  
  
"Fair," Sören said. "I just don't want you to get the idea that this is me taking pity on him and he's milking it because he's a lawyer and he knows how to manipulate a courtroom. It's true that his accident probably made me more willing to listen to him when he showed up at the National because it's clear he's had to rethink his life, but I neither think that he is less desirable because he walks with a cane now..." Sören shivered a little, thinking about all the times they'd made love. "Nor do I pity him. And that means not making excuses for him, either, just because he's been in an accident. Disabled people can be assholes and fuck up just like anyone else. _If_ you say yes and _if_ he fucks up, he's not getting a pass because he could have died a few months ago. He gets exactly one more chance with me, that's it. And only if you agree."  
  
"I will think about it," Nicholas said, "and I will need to speak with him in person to inform my decision."  
  
Sören took out his cell phone. "I can call him right now to set up an appointment -"  
  
Nicholas covered Sören's hand with his and gave a firm headshake _no_ , and withdrew his hand; Sören put the phone down. Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "He is, as you know, a lawyer. If it's all the same to you, I would prefer not to set up an appointment in advance and give him the advantage of being able to rehearse some sort of mental script for dealing with me. I want honesty from him and that's going to be easier to come by if he doesn't expect me coming." Nicholas cocked his head to one side. "Do you know what his schedule is like these days?"  
  
"He says he's home most of the time except when he has physical therapy, but he didn't say when and if I call him back and ask when, he's going to assume I want that information for reasons. It's unlikely, though, that his physical therapist's office would be open on the weekends, so Saturday or Sunday sounds like your best bet for an encounter." Sören felt a bit shady about the whole thing but he did understand Nicholas's rationale and he couldn't exactly blame Nicholas for that. "He's at his parents' in Blackheath now, since his flat in Kingston was bricked after the accident. I can give you the address..."  
  
Nicholas nodded. "Yes, but it doesn't have to be right now. It is only Tuesday." Then Nicholas gave a little snort. "Blackheath, eh?"  
  
"Something wrong with Blackheath?"  
  
"I'm from Blackheath." Nicholas rolled his eyes. "I haven't been there in quite some time, but I was born and raised there, it was where my parents had their little chateau when they moved from France after the war. I wonder if it's still standing..."  
  
"Wow, you and Anthony are both from Blackheath?" Sören gave a low whistle and chuckled. "You both prefer to be called by your full name instead of the short version, you both like to read, you both like to garden..." Sören stopped himself from saying _you both like to spank my ass_. "I don't know, man, it sounds like you guys are secretly related or something."  
  
Nicholas gave him a look, and Sören skritched his whiskers, smiling indulgently. Though Sören had mostly been joking, he thought about the recurring dreams of another time, another place, another body, where Anthony had been one of his two brother-lovers, and though Sören had never gotten a confirmation from Nicholas the way he had from Anthony, who had the same dreams, and he was afraid of bringing it up, Sören had wondered more than once if Nicholas was the other.  
  
Sören once again chewed on that thought as Nicholas went about the task of finishing up dinner. One of the reasons why Sören had avoided asking him _"hey, have you ever had any weird dreams? dreams that feel like remembering a past life?"_ was because Nicholas had been a priest for a few years, in his late twenties, and he still had largely negative opinions about religion, though he practiced tai chi for the physical and mental health benefits. Sören didn't want to argue with him about the metaphysical, seeing firsthand with his brother Dag and cousin Ari just how bitter and vitriolic those arguments could get. Dag and Ari did get along better these days, but the damage had still been done, they weren't close, and there had been a time when they couldn't even be in the same room. Sören wanted things to be nice and quiet for awhile - it was bad enough Anthony had shown up out of the blue.  
  
But it still nagged at him. Especially when Nicholas was his "daddy", and long before Sören had ever met Nicholas, he'd dreamt of the same sort of roleplay with his other brother-lover, who took care of him even though he was the middle brother.  
  
Petting a loudly purring Tobias settled Sören's anxiety a bit until dinner was ready. Nicholas served dinner up on the rooftop, in the garden - the oppressive heat of earlier in the day had faded into a pleasant warmth, and it was nice to be up there with the breeze and the view, a romantic ambiance set with candles and lanterns and fairy lights among the roses and herbs and little trees. Sören continued to calm down as they ate, and Sören kept stealing glances at Nicholas, admiring how handsome he was. It wasn't long before Sören's thoughts turned lustful, thinking of different things he wanted to do to Nicholas's body, things he wanted Nicholas to do to him. Sören started playing footsie with Nicholas under the table, enjoying the way Nicholas's cheeks turned pink and his dark eyes twinkled, crinkling at the corners as he smiled bashfully.  
  
"Oh, you," Nicholas said, reaching across the table to pat Sören's hand.  
  
Sören took Nicholas's hand and squeezed it. "See, you've got me, Nick. I'm not going anywhere." Sören attempted a wink, failing, a clumsy blink. "Except down."  
  
Nicholas facepalmed and chuckled. "You have a one-track mind, Sören."  
  
"I think of other stuff too! Like, uh." Sören actually couldn't think of other things right that moment, he was so fixated on taking Nicholas to bed and shagging him senseless. "Uh."  
  
"My point exactly."  
  
Sören kicked him under the table and Nicholas gave him a little kick back, then Nicholas rubbed Sören's knee under the table, and his hand slid up Sören's thigh. "A little while longer, my love," Nicholas said. "Remember, we still need to go for our walk, and tai chi..."  
  
Sören gave an exaggerated groan.  
  
"Healthy habits," Nicholas said, waving his fork. "I intend to live a long time. And as a doctor, you should -"  
  
"I know, I know." Sören grinned into his wine. "I'm just horny for you, is all."  
  
Nicholas's flush deepened. "I'm still not used to this."  
  
"Oh, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable -"  
  
"Sören, after four months you should know I'm not uncomfortable with your... interest." Nicholas raised an eyebrow. Then he shook his head a little, chuckling. "It's just surprising it's so... vehement. It's not a complaint. I never thought I'd be the object of desire this intense." Nicholas laughed harder. "Part of why I don't begrudge sharing you is you'd probably ravish me to death if we were monogamous."  
  
Sören giggled. He loved it when Nicholas used old-fashioned words. "That's me, the ravishing rakehell."  
  
"Indeed. If I were a bit younger, I would match your appetite a bit more, but -"  
  
"It's the quality that counts," Sören said sincerely. "We still make love often enough."  
  
But Nicholas glanced away and Sören knew without him saying anything that once again he was worrying about his age. At sixty-six Nicholas was healthy and active and had a strong enough libido to manage making love with Sören at least a few times every week. It wasn't like what Sören had experienced living with Anthony where they often made love a few times every night, but Sören still enjoyed the sex very much. Sören did wonder himself how much longer Nicholas would be able to keep up. He didn't think Nicholas would decline anytime soon, from a strictly medical perspective Sören assumed Nicholas still had many good years left, but he knew it was eventually inevitable, and Sören felt sad thinking about it. Not sad enough to abandon him for someone younger. Though Sören had told Nicholas from the get-go he didn't want to get married because he'd almost married Anthony and that went to hell, Sören considered himself as good as married to Nicholas and he intended on staying with Nicholas for the rest of his life unless Nicholas hurt him, and so far everything had been very good.  
  
 _Come back to the present,_ Sören told himself. _Don't worry about the future. Enjoy what you have right now._  
  
Sören had seconds - he was famished after a long shift - and Nicholas watched him eat, looking pleased that Sören enjoyed his cooking so much. Then Nicholas looked thoughtful, and Sören hoped he wasn't thinking about getting older again, and worrying whether or not Sören would still want him in the years to come. Sören felt his brow furrow, and he cocked his head to one side. "Penny for your thoughts," he said.  
  
"Ah." Nicholas gave a small nod, and his eyes met Sören's. He took a sip of wine and he said, "Something that's... not quite troubling me, it's more of a puzzlement."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Nicholas put his wine glass down. "So Anthony just showed up out of the blue at the National... and happened to be in the cafe when you were on break."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Your schedule isn't public record."  
  
"No," Sören said.  
  
"And as you know, you work irregular hours, your shifts are very different from one day to the next. It would be quite a lucky guess to get you on your break, and observant though he may be with his law career, nobody is that observant."  
  
Sören came right out and said it. "Karen told him."  
  
"Karen... told him."  
  
Sören nodded. He could hear the edge to Nicholas's voice, and truth be told, Sören wasn't entirely pleased either, even though he knew his girlfriend meant well. "That's what he told me, anyway, and I don't believe he was lying because, like you said, that would be a really good guess, and it's a non-trivial thing for him to get out now since the accident, he doesn't just have mobility issues but he doesn't drive anymore, so taking a cab all the way from Blackheath to Holborn and back isn't something he would keep doing with just a guess, hoping he guessed right through multiple failures before I showed up. I would have probably already heard before now 'hey your ex is coming around' if so."  
  
There was a long pause. Nicholas finished his wine. "I see."  
  
  
_  
  
  
After the dishes were done, Sören accompanied Nicholas on his evening walk. The sun was setting now in a blaze of pink, orange and gold, and Sören marveled at the sky. No matter how many times he'd watched the sunset or a sunrise, he never got tired of it. No two were alike, and it was always a delight to see how the sky would change this time. For all of the troubles of the world there were so many little wonders, and moments like this, walking through the neighborhood with Nicholas arm-in-arm under the fiery sky, made life worth living. Sören rested his head on Nicholas's shoulder and gave a happy little sigh.  
  
His happiness quickly turned to alarm when he saw Nicholas leading them in the direction of Karen and Geir's flat, not their usual direction for the evening walk. _Oh shit._  
  
Nicholas and Sören both had keys, and Nicholas did not call to let them know he was there, he simply marched into the building, Sören following behind. Soft music was playing in Karen and Geir's flat, which indicated at least one of them was home, and Nicholas didn't even knock, he just put his key in the door and came in.  
  
Karen was sitting on the couch in a pair of cream silk pajamas, her platinum blonde hair tumbled loose around her shoulders. Sören tried not to ogle her curves through the silk; he needed to be stern right now, not turned on. Karen was reading and she put the book down immediately. "Dad!" Her eyes were wide with surprise, and then her face lit up. "Hi, Sören."  
  
Sören waved, not able to resist that lovely smile. Nicholas did not wave, nor did he smile in return. "Good evening, Karen," Nicholas said, all serious business.  
  
"Can I get you guys anything to eat or drink? Tea?"  
  
"May I," Nicholas muttered, and then he gave a small nod. "Tea would be most welcome, thank you, Karen."  
  
Sören and Nicholas took a seat, sitting side-by-side. Sören felt like he should go in there and help Karen since they had just dropped by unexpectedly, but Karen was cheerful, seemingly not bothered by the making of tea. She brought the tea over with some biscuits. Sören shoved one in his mouth while Nicholas nibbled on his.  
  
"So, what brings you here? Different route for your evening walk?" Karen dipped a biscuit in her tea before taking a bite.  
  
"You could say that," Nicholas said. "I'll get right to it. Sören informs me that a certain Anthony Hewlett-Johnson showed up at the National today, in the cafe on his break. As you know, Sören's hours are such that cornering him on his break would be an incredibly lucky guess, but Anthony claims that you gave him the information. Is that true?"  
  
Karen put her tea down and looked down. "Guilty."  
  
Nicholas exhaled sharply. "You had no right to interfere."  
  
Karen gave Sören a pleading look, sadness in her blue eyes. Sören felt like he was caught in the middle. "He's not completely wrong," Sören said quietly.  
  
"Oh god." Karen's sweet face registered alarm. "You didn't... reject him outright, did you?"  
  
"No," Sören admitted. "I let him make his case, and..." Sören sighed. "You know how I feel. I told him I'd talk to Nick about it."  
  
"I'm taking the matter under advisement," Nicholas said. "But that still doesn't make it all right for you -"  
  
Karen put up her hand and then she straightened her posture, squaring her shoulders, going from nervous to steely in a matter of seconds. Sören now had an idea of what Karen had been like in her barrister days. "Sören cried about him on Friday night. Again. I couldn't bear to keep seeing him in pain like this. So I went to go see Anthony myself, to see if this could be fixed somehow, if he'd changed at all. And he is still in love with Sören. I can tell. It's not just what he says, but it's... everything. The way he reacts. Things he can't hide, no matter how hard he tries."  
  
Sören's heart fluttered a little at this. He'd seen Anthony's pain in person, but it was one thing for him to see it and another thing for Karen to see it, a barrister, trained in observation, able to tell when people were lying or not. The fact that Karen felt Anthony was being honest said a lot; he considered her a good judge of character. And though Nicholas kept his own reaction neutral, Sören noticed the slight shift in his seat, as if he was realizing the same thing.  
  
Karen continued on, her voice firm. "I did what I felt I had to do, I did what I thought I _must_ , for Sören's sake. My intentions were pure."  
  
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Nicholas said quietly. "Your actions have consequently put me in a very difficult position."  
  
"I understand," Karen said. "But I would do it again. For Sören." Karen glanced at Sören then. "I was only trying to look out for you."  
  
"Yeah." Sören frowned. He got it - he couldn't say he regretted his meeting with Anthony earlier - but he still felt mildly disgruntled. "Next time, do me a favor and don't."  
  
Karen's mouth opened, and then it closed.  
  
"Sorry," Sören said, feeling a little guilty, not wanting to make her feel too bad. "I realize you meant well. I do. But at the very least, you could have given me some sort of heads up -"  
  
"I think you and I both know if I'd given you advance warning, it would have gone a lot worse," Karen said. "You might have refused to see him outright."  
  
"OK, fair," Sören said. "But still. Next time, please don't give my schedule out without my consent and prior knowledge."  
  
"Deal," Karen said, nodding. Then she turned back to Nicholas. "Am I grounded, Dad?"  
  
Nicholas's lips quirked with a reluctant smile. "We'll discuss this further when I'm a bit more calm. This was rather sudden and I'm still reeling from the information, I shan't recover so easily. But I do agree with Sören. And I would have appreciated you touching base with _me_ as well, since I am, after all, the one living with him. I feel like there was no care or consideration given for how I might feel about all of this -"  
  
"Sorry." Karen bit her lower lip. "I wasn't trying to disrespect you, Dad. I was trying to... ease Sören's pain. Which might make things easier on you, as well."  
  
"That," Nicholas said, "remains to be seen. As I said, I have concerns."  
  
"Understandable. But I wouldn't have given him the schedule at all if I didn't think he'd changed," Karen said.  
  
They finished their tea and biscuits, and at last Nicholas looked at the clock. "All right. We'll get going," Nicholas said. "And we'll discuss this again later."  
  
"Are we still invited for Sunday dinner?" Karen asked. "Or do you need some space?"  
  
"You're still invited," Nicholas said.  
  
Karen walked them to the door. Sören accepted a hug, not able to resist stroking her silver-blonde hair, and then Nicholas did as well. He gently patted Karen's shoulder. "I know you tried to do the right thing, dear," Nicholas said. "I don't hate you. I am displeased, and I will be irritated for a few days yet, but it is not unforgivable."  
  
"That's good." Karen stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I would miss having you in my life."  
  
"Please tell Geir we said hello," Nicholas said, and gave a small, cordial wave on their way out.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Though Nicholas gave the appearance of willingness to forgive Karen at her flat, he was nonetheless obviously irritated on the walk back home. Still, their nightly tai chi routine calmed him down, and when they were finished, Sören pulled Nicholas into his arms and kissed him deeply.  
  
"Remember you still got me," Sören whispered.  
  
They brushed their teeth together and shared a minty kiss, then made their way into the shower, and spent a moment holding each other, rocking together under the spray. Then they kissed again... and again, hands sliding over each other's naked bodies, exploring, playing. They washed each other's hair and beards, then Sören reached for the liquid soap and poured some on his hands, and Nicholas gave an appreciative moan as Sören began to lather his chest, enjoying the feel of Nicholas's chest hair, rubbing it, fingers running through it, combing it.  
  
Sören lathered him all over, smirking as Nicholas's cock rose. Sören lathered that too, stroking slowly as they kissed again. Then Nicholas rinsed, and soaped his own hands and rubbed Sören down, covering him in bubbles, palms and fingers lingering everywhere he knew Sören was sensitive - spine, nipples, stomach, hips and thighs. Earlier in the month Sören had gotten a tattoo of a fireflower rose on the side of his body where he had a flame sleeve tattoo, leading to a fiery phoenix on his back; the fireflower rose sat where his hip and waist met, an exquisitely erogenous place that Nicholas was fond of kissing, licking, nibbling and caressing. Nicholas's fingers brushed it now, sending a shiver through Sören, and Nicholas laughed softly at Sören's hard cock jolting at the touch, then he groaned as he watched precum slide down Sören's shaft.  
  
After Sören rinsed, Sören took both their cocks into his fist and stroked them as they kissed. Sören's free hand rubbed Nicholas's chest hair, played with his nipples. Nicholas's fingers brushed over Sören's sensitive skin, giving him gooseflesh, and at last Nicholas began to kiss and lick Sören's neck. "Shall we take this to the bedroom, my sweet?" Nicholas asked before kissing the sweet spot where Sören's neck and shoulder met, making Sören cry out.  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
On the bed they lay there, looking into each other's eyes, and Nicholas stroked Sören's cheek, tracing his lips with his thumb, and ran his thumb along Sören's beard as they kissed again. Sören melted into the kiss, moaning, and he moaned again louder as he felt Nicholas's cock rub against his, felt Nicholas's body hair rub against his softer skin. Nicholas resumed kissing down Sören's neck, taking little nibbles, and Sören groaned and shivered, fingers walking down Nicholas's back.  
  
"You said I had earnt some spankings," Sören husked, giving him a teasing grin.  
  
"A few," Nicholas said with a wicked smile.  
  
Sören rolled over. Nicholas slapped his ass and Sören moaned, bucking, thrusting his ass out to encourage more. A second slap, and Sören's cock throbbed, his hole twitching, aching to be filled. Nicholas spanked him again and again and again, until Sören was panting, trembling, whimpering, fists grabbing the pillows white-knuckled. Nicholas rubbed Sören's stinging ass cheeks, and then rolled him back over to look into his eyes again and give him a tender little kiss. Sören let out a whine and started rubbing his cock against Nicholas's more insistently. "Daddy," he begged, electrified from the spanking, out of his mind with need. "Daddy, fuck me..."  
  
"So impatient." Nicholas chuckled, and kissed him harder as his fingers strayed to play with a pierced nipple, teasing it erect. Sören gasped - his nipples were hard-wired to his cock and Nicholas knew that. He cried out when Nicholas pinched the nipple, tugged on the ring.  
  
"You know me," Sören said. "I'm naughty." Sören bit his lower lip.  
  
"Yes. But you're also a good boy." Nicholas kissed the tip of his nose and pet Sören's curls, stroked his face again. "You were a good boy, being honest with Daddy about everything even though you knew it would be difficult."  
  
"I tried," Sören said. "I tried to be good, Daddy. I love you and I would never want to hurt my Daddy."  
  
"I know, sweetheart." Nicholas kissed down Sören's neck and throat again, intensifying that need in him, Sören's cock stiffening even more, twinging, wanting. Nicholas kissed down to Sören's chest. "You've got a beautiful heart, love." With that, he kissed over Sören's heart.  
  
Sören sighed, and stroked Nicholas's whiskers, kissing him hungrily when Nicholas came back up. Nicholas started playing with Sören's nipple again, then the other, and when Sören moaned into the kiss, shuddering, Nicholas gave Sören's ass a firm but playful swat, chuckling as Sören laughed.  
  
"My good boy," Nicholas husked.  
  
Sören loved that. He didn't know he had such a kink for it, but he did, biting his lip again as precum dripped down his shaft.  
  
"I think you deserve a reward for being such a good boy," Nicholas said.  
  
"Oh? What do I get, Daddy?"  
  
"To start, I think my good boy deserves a sweet."  
  
 _Oh goddddd...._ Sören shuddered again, cock throbbing, knowing exactly what he meant, wanting it so badly. He licked his lips as he looked down at Nicholas's cock, long, thick, uncut, slightly upcurved, flushed a deep pink, the veins prominent. "That's a big lolly, Daddy. I don't know if it'll all fit in my mouth." Sören slid down the length of Nicholas's body, breathing in the scent of him clean from the shower, the touch of musk of his arousal. "But it looks delicious."  
  
With that, Sören began to just lick Nicholas's cock, licking and licking, tongue lashing the slit in the head, swirling around and around the head, rubbing the foreskin and the frenulum, then he licked up and down the shaft, long, slow strokes, and then shorter, faster ones. Nicholas groaned, grabbing Sören's curls, and the look of lust on his face made Sören's own cock jolt. Sören found his own hand straying to his cock, not able to help stroking himself as he licked Nicholas's cock all over, slow then fast, up and down, Nicholas's moans rising, Nicholas breathing harder, quivering. At last Sören took Nicholas's cock into his mouth. He'd had enough experience with sucking cock over the years that it actually wasn't trouble to fit it in, but it was part of the game. Sören swallowed him down inch by inch and sucked slowly, savoring. "Mmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmm, mmmmm."  
  
"Oh, love," Nicholas gasped.  
  
Sören teasingly let the cock slip from his mouth and gave it a few licks. "Oh, Daddy, it's so good." Then he put it back in his mouth, sucking slowly, rubbing his tongue as he sucked, kissing it, gripping his own cock harder as he watched Nicholas's pleasure, reveled in every delicious moan and gasp.  
  
Soon Sören was sucking him harder, faster, really getting into it. Sören would have been happy with Nicholas coming in his mouth, but before that could happen Nicholas pulled Sören off his cock with a, "Stop."  
  
"What's wrong, Daddy?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong. I just want to finish inside you, is all."  
  
Sören couldn't object to that, either - his body was screaming for Nicholas's cock inside him. Nicholas usually only had enough for one orgasm and if they had time, a couple of hours to recharge and go again. But they both had work in the morning.  
  
Sören came up to kiss him, and now Nicholas took their hard cocks together in his hand, stroking slowly. "I liked that, Daddy," Sören said between kisses. "It was a very nice sweet."  
  
"Daddy wants something sweet now, too." Nicholas started kissing down Sören's neck again, driving him wild, Sören crying out as Nicholas kissed and nibbled his shoulder. Then his tongue brushed a nipple and Sören howled, bucking against him.  
  
Nicholas's tongue slowly, lovingly licked the nipple, then rubbed it harder, faster, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking hard. Sören gasped and whimpered, a shiver down his spine, his cock aching, needing. "Mmmmm," Nicholas said with a little smile. "Lovely." His tongue swirled around the nipple and then lashed the hard nub again, before suckling even harder, making Sören produce an inhuman noise at the pleasure surging through him. Nicholas turned his head to the other nipple, and his fingers and thumb played with the glistening wet, peaked nipple he'd just been sucking on, as his tongue worked its magic, fluttering then lapping, lips latching onto it hard, licking and sucking some more. Back and forth he went between them, playing with one as he feasted on the other. The harder and more swollen Sören's nipples got, the more aggressive Nicholas got, until he was nibbling on them, tugging on the rings with his teeth, making Sören writhe and pant, "oh god. oh god. ohgodohgodohgod Daddy, DaddyDaddyDaddy _fuckme_..."  
  
At last Sören couldn't take it anymore, letting out a frantic keening noise, nails raking Nicholas's back. Nicholas chuckled, and he positioned himself, laying on his back, propped up against the pillows. "Would my good boy like a horsey ride?"  
  
"Oh god, yes."  
  
Nicholas reached for the lubricant they kept by the bed. Sören poured lube over Nicholas's cock and worked it over, stroking slowly, admiring the sight of Nicholas's cock glistening. Nicholas slicked his fingers and put two inside Sören, finding that spot inside him right away, rubbing it in circles as they kissed. Sören rubbed Nicholas's chest, feeling his chest hair, teasing his nipples, and soon Sören was kissing Nicholas's neck, wanting to make him crazy too. When Nicholas couldn't take it anymore he grabbed Sören's hips, and Sören sank down, slowly.  
  
They both cried out when Nicholas was all the way inside, the wonder of that moment of union, joined, one flesh. Nicholas took Sören's face and kissed him hard, kissed him with all the fire he'd kept in reserve for his adult life, and Sören moaned into the kiss, tears in his eyes as he felt overcome by love, passion, knowing what this meant to Nicholas, to be intimate with someone this way.  
  
Sören began to ride slowly. Nicholas groaned, taking in the sight of his cock gliding in and out of Sören's passage, the sight of Sören's hips rolling. Sören loved that lust in Nicholas's eyes, making him feel like a porn star, a sex god. "You like that, Daddy?" Sören whispered.  
  
"I love it, sweetheart." Nicholas stroked Sören's face, and his hand rested on Sören's heart. "I love you."  
  
They kissed again, their hands roaming over each other's bodies, caressing, loving, needing to feel every inch of each other. Sören rose up and continued his slow ride, like a sensual dance. But Nicholas's cock rubbing that magic button inside him felt too good, and soon Sören was riding him harder, faster, until he was bouncing away, and Nicholas grabbed Sören's hips, thrusting into him, matching his rhythm, making Sören work for it, giving him a good, hard ride.  
  
"Oh god, Daddy," Sören panted, holding onto Nicholas for dear life. "Daddy, Daddy, Pabbi, oh god, Pabbi, that's so good..."  
  
Nicholas groaned. "Such a good boy..."  
  
Sören cried out and rode even harder. He felt himself getting closer, closer, and at last the heat in Nicholas's dark eyes sent him to that point of no return. "Daddy I'm gonna come -"  
  
"Yes, sweetheart. Come for Daddy, my good boy."  
  
Sören screamed as he erupted all over Nicholas's chest, letting out a huge blast of his seed, the prostate orgasm so intense it almost hurt, euphoria pouring into him as his seed flooded out of him. Nicholas made a deep, guttural primal noise as he filled Sören with his own seed, shaking. Sören loved that feeling, loved being _claimed_ that way.  
  
Sören felt like his legs were made of spaghetti, the pleasure liquefying his brain, laying there with a stupid, blissed-out grin on his face, feeling like he was high. Nicholas smiled at him fondly and rained kisses over his face.  
  
"I love you, Daddy," Sören said.  
  
"I love you, sweet boy." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. He pulled Sören close, and Sören snuggled into his chest, rubbing his nose in the chest hair, giving a happy sigh as Nicholas began to pet his curls.  
  
For at least right then, everything was all right. However the return of Anthony was going to shake things up, troubles seemed far away, and Sören melted into sleep.


	3. Difficile et Maladroit

It was Sunday afternoon. Anthony had been on pins since his trip to the National on Wednesday, waiting to hear back on whether or not Nicholas would agree to him and Sören resuming a relationship. Anthony hadn't said anything yet to his parents, on the chance that the other man would say no, not wanting to get his mother's hopes up just to dash them. But his mother was no fool, and seemed to know _something_ was going on, especially when he went out yesterday afternoon to go with Karen Swanson to Greenleaf, a nearby bookstore. They hadn't talked much - Karen had been absorbed in browsing - until the end, when Karen had mentioned her conversation with Nicholas and that he'd expressed "having concerns".  
  
"Why don't you invite Karen over for tea?" Elaine had asked over breakfast this morning. "It's nice that you're making a friend."  
  
"I don't want to be a pain, Mum," Anthony said. _I don't want her to see how lonely and desperate I am for friendship._ He closed his eyes, trying not to think of when he'd asked Trisha and Vincente to come visit him after the accident and Trisha had laughed at him and said some unkind things about his disability.  
  
"Well..." Elaine glanced across the table at Roger, who looked up from his newspaper with a grunt. "Your father and I will be running some errands this afternoon if you change your mind and you don't want the old folks breathing down your neck."  
  
Anthony still hadn't invited Karen over for tea. He took the afternoon to himself. He spent time in the garden, trying to get his mind off things for awhile in the beauty of nature, the satisfaction of feeling the earth with his hands, the life in the plants, watching the changes as they grew. The garden was a tangible reminder that life goes on, and it was usually a comfort to him in distress. But he found himself missing Sören, once again agitated as he waited to hear whether or not they could start afresh or this was it. The garden was a reminder of him, the way they'd made love here like an ancient fertility rite, something that Sören had captured in a painting that Anthony could still see if he closed his eyes.  
  
It was a gorgeous day, warm while not being as stifling as the past week had been. Anthony had brought out his laptop and small portable speakers that connected to it, a pitcher of lemonade, and some fresh bread his mother had baked, for when he was ready to take a break. The need for that break came sooner rather than later, between Anthony's limited physical endurance with his leg, and the way his mind kept wandering back to making love with Sören in the garden.  
  
He shuffled over to the bench and the items sitting nearby. He carefully opened his laptop and, after checking his e-mail - force of habit, even though his inbox was much slower these days - he opened up a tab for Duolingo.  
  
Anthony had taken linguistics at Cambridge, before his diploma conversion. He spoke fluent French, German, Spanish, and Swedish, and he was passable with Italian. A couple of weeks after his accident, he had been feeling mentally restless enough to decide to try this Duolingo thing he'd kept hearing about, as a way to brush up on languages he'd already studied, and begin in languages he hadn't learned yet. Duolingo was like a game, and it had motivated him to get out of bed every day and do a lesson to keep his streak and keep leveling up, in competition with other users. He was in the Diamond League, and he'd won first place in Diamond League earlier in June, not an easy feat because once you hit Diamond League you were competing with other users who seemed to be on Duolingo every waking moment. Now he was less concerned with the top spot and simply just not getting demoted to a lower league. Currently he was working on Norwegian - his fluency in Swedish made it easier to learn other Scandinavian languages, and he was hoping that someday he and Sören might vacation to Norway together, the way they'd visited Sweden. Anthony once again lamented that Duolingo didn't have Icelandic, something he really wanted to take to impress Sören (and be able to understand him when Sören went off yelling like a drunk Viking).  
  
Anthony made his way through the lesson, and increasingly wished he hadn't had the great idea of today's Norwegian lesson on his break, because even that reminded him of Sören and intensified that wistful ache. Anthony did not want to give into crying _again_ , tearing a piece of bread with his teeth as if it had personally offended him.  
  
The lesson prompted him to write this in English: _Jeg spiser brød og gråter på gulvet._  
  
"I am eating bread and crying on the floor," Anthony said dryly as he typed the correct response. After Duolingo confirmed it was correct, Anthony said, "Thanks, Duo, for teaching me how to have a breakdown in Norwegian. Most useful life skill at the moment."  
  
Anthony usually continued on for a bit after meeting his daily XP goal, but the lesson had gotten a little too real so he was done for the day. He glanced back at the garden - he still had some more work to do. He decided to put on music to work to, and went in the music files on his laptop. He put on Nirvana, something suitably angsty. He'd been a big fan during his turbulent teenage years, and in the weeks and months following his breakup with Sören he found himself returning to the angry soundtrack of his youth. Though there was still hope with Sören, for the moment, he felt like he had a long road ahead of him and he was already so, so tired and beaten down. The last few months since the accident had felt like years.  
  
 _I will never bother you  
I will never promise to  
I will never follow you  
I will never bother you  
Never speak a word again  
I will crawl away for good  
  
I will move away from here  
You won't be afraid of fear  
No thought was put into this  
I always knew it would come to this  
Things have never been so swell  
I have never failed to fail  
  
Hey, hey, hey  
You know you're right  
You know you're right  
You know you're right_  
  
A deep, velvet-smooth bass voice cut into the music. "Anthony Wyatt-Jones?"  
  
Anthony startled and dropped his hoe. He looked up and saw the same man he'd seen Sören with at The Raven's Roost back in February - tall, about six-five, silver hair and neatly kept beard, dark eyes with thick salt-and-pepper brows, olive-skinned, lean but powerfully built, handsome in a stern, intense way, wearing all black on a summer day. This must be Sören's partner... the other man.  
  
Anthony steadied himself on his cane and took a few paces, offering his free hand. The other man's grip was firm.  
  
"I never formally made your acquaintance during our brief encounter a few months ago. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Nicholas Decaux -"  
  
"I know who you are," Anthony said, and felt a little annoyed with himself, hearing the edge in his voice, not wanting to come off as defensive right out the gate. Anthony cleared his throat. He glanced around the garden. "How did you get here?"  
  
"As you know, there is a small set of stone steps on the side of your house, leading from the driveway straight out here. I heard the music and thought that was where you'd be, so I ascended those steps."  
  
"All right. This is... unexpected." Anthony felt completely caught off guard, and he had a feeling that was rather the point - if their situations were reversed, and he hadn't said "no" to the idea of Sören with another partner right away, he too would probably want a surprise meeting with the other man, to get a pulse on the situation and their intentions. _You're the one on the witness stand now._ "I have some lemonade, would you like some? Or would you prefer to go inside and have tea?"  
  
"Lemonade would be appreciated, thank you."  
  
Anthony turned off the music and Nicholas took a seat on a bench adjacent to where Anthony had been sitting on his break, the benches making an L-shape in the corner of the garden. "You have a lovely garden," Nicholas said, looking around. "I can see why you'd be out here rather than inside on a day like today."  
  
Anthony nodded. "And the work is never done, really."  
  
"But you enjoy it." Nicholas met his eyes. "I have a rooftop garden. It is one of the simple joys in my life."  
  
So they had that much in common, a love of Sören, a love of gardening. Anthony passed Nicholas his lemonade. "You didn't come out here to talk to me about gardening."  
  
"No, I think you know why I'm here," Nicholas said, and took a sip of his lemonade, glancing at Anthony over the glass.  
  
Anthony once again felt on edge. He felt a momentary flare of resentment, anger with himself for losing Sören in the first place, and now having to prove himself to someone who seemed to already find him guilty. And Anthony couldn't blame Nicholas for that - he'd fucked up, he knew after what he did he couldn't just be let back into Sören's life as if nothing had happened. Just the same, he found himself feeling like Nicholas was some sort of competitor, envious of the life he'd built with Sören, the time he'd had with Sören, while he'd been alone and miserable these last few months. And the anger in him seemed to intensify with Nicholas being so _attractive_. Nicholas reminded him very much of Mikael, the first man he'd fallen in love with, during a trip to Sweden in his early twenties. There had been about the same degree of age difference as there was between Nicholas and Sören, Nicholas bore a resemblance to Mikael, a silver fox. The thought of Sören and Nicholas making love together was a delicious mental image and he hated feeling a twinge of desire like that. He tried to keep the anger off his face. "I know why you're here," Anthony said, keeping his tone calm.  
  
"All right." Nicholas gave a small nod. "I'll be blunt with you, Anthony. You caused Sören a tremendous amount of pain and anguish. While I hope that my love has been a balm for his heart, he is still scarred from what happened... from what you did. I am protective of him, he has had a difficult life even without what you did - indeed, what you did, after he's already had so much hardship in his life, seems to sting even worse -"  
  
Anthony felt a stab of guilt. Already, he felt the tears coming on, but he didn't want to fall apart in front of Nicholas.  
  
"- and I would have said 'no' outright, except... you know how Sören is." Nicholas sighed. "Those puppydog eyes -"  
  
"Yes." Anthony felt a wistful ache. When Sören got like that, he would have plucked the moon out of the sky if he could, to give him.  
  
"I already know where Sören stands on the issue. He wants to be with you again, but he has assured me that it will not disrupt the life we have been building together, or at least he will try not to let it disrupt our life. He and I have been living together since March, and I am aware he has other partners and thus far we have had an amicable arrangement with sharing. I have expressed concerns about one more, especially someone who was his live-in partner, who he almost married at one time. But Sören does not want to upset my place in his lineup, and I'm assuming he told you that as well, since he's very straightforward about these things."  
  
"He did," Anthony said. It stung a little - he'd had hopes of living with Sören again someday, getting married like they had originally planned; that dream they'd entertained of retiring to someplace like Brighton, growing old together. Now at best he would be "a bit on the side", at least as long as Nicholas was alive, and he got the feeling Nicholas was going to be around for a long time. He accepted that it was better to settle for that than not have his beloved Sören at all, and he wasn't going to try to push his way out and usurp Nicholas's position in the hierarchy if only because he knew that would backfire on him, but it was going to take some getting used to. And he also knew that after what he'd done to Sören, he really had no _right_ to reclaim the sort of life with him that he'd once had.  
  
"However, even as one of Sören's side relationships, there is still potential for him to get his heart broken again." Nicholas gave Anthony a dirty look. "Once was bad enough, twice is... not acceptable. Understand that if I say yes, and I have not decided yet, you will receive exactly one more chance with him, and if you hurt him again, that's it."  
  
"I know." Anthony let go of the poker face for just a moment to say, "I don't want to break Sören's heart any more than you want me to break Sören's heart. Living with the weight of what I did, how I hurt him, how it's continued to affect him, has been very difficult. I can't bear the thought of him getting hurt again, so I will try my best -"  
  
"Do or not do, Anthony Wyatt-Jones. There is no try."  
  
Anthony exhaled sharply.  
  
Nicholas took another sip of his lemonade and then he went on, "There is, as far as I'm concerned, no 'try' involved with infidelity, or associating with people who are insulting and disrespecting one's partner. It should not be that difficult to abstain from -"  
  
"Yes, I worded that incorrectly," Anthony said. "What I meant in the context of 'try' was not so much that as it was the little things. Disagreements, the ups and downs that every relationship has... that our own relationship had towards the end. If you are expressing such a hardline stance against me hurting Sören, which I cannot blame you for, I was simply letting you know that I will try to not even upset him with the smaller conflicts -"  
  
Nicholas put up a hand, indicating he should stop. "Fair."  
  
Anthony took a long sip of his lemonade. He was starting to feel ill, and he knew it wasn't from the heat. And he knew Nicholas wasn't finished with him yet. He had a feeling of what was coming next.  
  
Nicholas gave a slight eyebrow raise. "I would like to know, in your own words, what happened. Your explanation for why you did what you did. And in your own words, why you feel things have changed since then and why you feel you deserve a second chance with him."  
  
Anthony took a moment to collect his thoughts. Even when he'd given himself a few days to prepare for going to the National to see Sören, he'd felt completely caught off guard - there was a difference between rehearsing things in his head and the reality of seeing Sören in the flesh and going to pieces around him, and having to play off of the interactions with Sören in real time, like a dance, like a game of chess. This was even more of a shock, even though Anthony knew he shouldn't be that surprised that Nicholas had shown up to talk to him, and indeed, Anthony felt like an idiot that he hadn't seen it coming. So here he was now, scrambling, if only so he didn't break down into a blubbering, incoherent mess in front of the man who held his fate in his hands. He didn't want to appear weak, too fragile to handle a relationship.  
  
When Anthony was ready, he spoke. "Our relationship ended in October 2013. Starting in August, Sören began working a hundred hours a week, after one of the neurosurgeons at the National suddenly died, and he was one of the few available to take on more hours. We were already starting to experience difficulties because of the friends I had at the time, where Sören felt like he wasn't really welcome or accepted, and I was naive enough to believe he was just a bit thin-skinned and overly self-conscious of his background and my putative friends really were trying. The rift that was starting intensified when Sören had fewer free hours and got resentful of me spending time with them, or inviting him to accompany me. And there were other things. I am not very domestic, and my lack of cooking skill became an issue when Sören was working so many hours and didn't have time to be the one to handle feeding both of us anymore. Sören was chronically exhausted, and short-tempered when exhausted. He got grouchier over things like hand-washing, than he normally did. Just little things adding up and up and up. And there wasn't the option of makeup sex to defuse tension. He didn't have time, and he was too worn out when there was time - I took him to Brighton one weekend that September and he ended up sleeping all weekend, which he hadn't planned on, he just crashed, poor thing." Anthony felt tears in his eyes again at the memory, and how he'd tried to not take it personally and felt like he was a selfish prick for feeling at least a little rejected, but mostly he'd felt bad for Sören, strong proof of just how bad things were for Sören with his schedule.  
  
"It sounds like you're blaming Sören for what happened," Nicholas said, anger flashing in his dark eyes.  
  
" _No._ " And then Anthony felt that iron control break. He'd desperately been trying to keep calm, cool, professional, like this was the courtroom. But here he was, crying now as he'd made witnesses cry, feeling his jaw tremble as the first hot tears slid down his cheeks, eyes stinging with salt. "I take responsibility for what I did. For my failure. Believe me, every day since it ended in October 2013, I've had regrets about what I did... wishing I could undo it."  
  
Anthony took a deep breath and tried to straighten his posture. He rubbed his face, trying to get it together, but the tears kept coming as he went on; he heard his voice cracking as he explained what happened, on his end of things. "I got sexually frustrated. Sören and I went from a very active sex life - surely you must have found out by now that he's insatiable - to the well running dry. And between the stress of our life together under pressure, and the stress of my job, I needed relief. I tried to just... use my hand. But it wasn't working. I needed to... feel... someone, on the other side. It was increasing my own tension, and I felt like that was making things worse on my end. And I tried to justify it to myself, that I was doing this for both of us, getting my needs met in a way that wouldn't put pressure on Sören or make him feel guilty when he was already dealing with so much. Just once, just a random person. Just sex, no strings attached, just defusing the tension to try to de-escalate things a little. And the day that I went home early from work for that one encounter, Sören came back early from his own job and found me in bed with the guy." Anthony broke down again as he remembered the hurt look in Sören's eyes, the magnificent rage as he exploded... and the shame. The feeling of utter _defeat_. "I was wrong," Anthony choked out through his tears. "I shouldn't have done what I'd done. I should have talked to him first, but I'd thought, at the time, telling him would just make it worse, and..." Anthony buried his face in his hands, doubling over with the force of his tears, feeling like his heart was being ripped open all over again. "I fucked up. I destroyed the trust of the man I love, when I know how hard it was for him to trust in the first place, after everything that's happened to him, and you don't know how sorry I am."  
  
Anthony looked up, ashamed for crying, feeling like this made him look unstable, like it was going to make Nicholas decide he was too much of a wreck. Nicholas sat watching, not reacting, but there seemed to be the touch of sadness in Nicholas's dark eyes even as he kept his expression neutral.  
  
"I take full responsibility for what happened," Anthony said, looking him in the eye, meaning every word. "I should have told him how bad it was for me, and we could have maybe worked on it. And yes, it wasn't just that I didn't want to burden him, I didn't want to stress him out even more, but I also felt deeply, deeply ashamed of how needy I was. It was pride, with me not wanting to beg to get my needs met. And that pride went before a very, very big fall. As you can see..." Anthony snuffled. "My pride took a rather large blow a few months ago." He gestured to his cane. "I have learnt I have to ask for help when I need it. I have learnt I can't keep a stiff upper lip all the time, and pretend I'm OK and can handle something when I really can't. It's something that's becoming a habit. But even beyond that, I know I owe it to be honest with Sören about things. I've learnt from my mistake. I have paid _dearly_ for it, losing him was like having a piece of my soul ripped out." He remembered Karen's words in the greatroom when she'd come to visit the Saturday before yesterday, how it had hit too close to home. Losing Sören hadn't just left a void in his life, but it felt like the entire world had gone wrong without Sören there, like his entire universe had spun off-center. It was not a wound that time had healed, time and distance had only made it worse.  
  
And speaking those words made him feel vulnerable, exposed, raw. Anthony could only cry for a moment, as much as he did not want to, felt he was hurting his case by doing so. But it hurt _so much._  
  
"I tried to move on," Anthony continued when he could make words again. "I got out there and I sowed my oats again for a few months, like it was a repeat of my twenties. But every single time, I pretended it was Sören when I closed my eyes. And it felt more and more like a cheap imitation of the real thing. Back on New Year's Eve, before the accident, I had a random hookup with someone on Grindr." He couldn't believe he was confessing this now, and to Nicholas of all people. "I did a bump of cocaine to get through it, something I haven't touched since I was at uni, something that I don't intend on doing again, it was a reminder I don't like it very much." He made a face as he remembered, and how cheap and dirty he'd felt, the lowest moment of his life before the accident, where the long, grueling rehabilitation had taken him to new lows of humiliation. "I thought of Sören, I ended up saying his name and getting thrown out. And that was when I knew I couldn't keep doing this. There hasn't been anyone since then. I deleted my Grindr account the first week of January."  
  
"And did your brush with death make you consider seeking closure?" Nicholas's voice was quiet, much calmer than Anthony knew the older man must be feeling.  
  
"Yes and no. You were there when I went to The Raven's Roost and asked to start over again and was rejected. As bloody awful as it's been since the accident, his answer was no and I was going to just... accept that. I wasn't going to _stalk_ him, try to keep pushing my way back into his life. No means no. I'd already done enough damage. But then Karen came here a week ago, and told me Sören still loves me, and has been unhappy without me. So I felt I owed it to him to go see him at the National and..." Anthony made a vague hand gesture. "See what I could do."  
  
Nicholas got quiet, and Anthony knew he was considering his response. Anthony felt like he'd probably said too much - he had a feeling Nicholas was probably judging him for the New Year's Eve confession. But he also knew, even as embarrassed as he was at the choices he'd made both before and after the breakup, that he didn't just owe Sören radical honesty but if this was going to work, he had to be radically honest with Sören's partners as well. And even with Nicholas's stern exterior, and the fear of judgment, there was something about him that seemed to prompt purging like this. Anthony looked into Nicholas's eyes again and saw something like compassion, instead of anger. Or at least that was hoping that was what it was.  
  
Then whatever softness there had been hardened once more. "What about your friends?" Nicholas asked. "Sören told me how deeply your friends hurt him, and how it contributed to -"  
  
"Yes." Another twinge of shame. Anthony took a deep breath. "I was bullied as a kid. Part of why my left leg is fucked up is because the accident re-aggravated an old injury, I broke my femur when I was twelve, because I was ganged up on and couldn't outrun them, so I climbed a tree, and fell out. I didn't have friends to defend me... I didn't have friends growing up. I finally made friends, when I was at uni, and I had learnt to get certain things under control, like I had a stutter, and I, ah... I used to fidget and rock myself when I get nervous. I still sometimes do, if nobody's watching, but..." He felt like an idiot again. "I had to train myself to maintain eye contact. Anyway. The crowd I ran with for awhile... they were the first friends I had. The first people who seemed to genuinely like me, thought I was cool, I was a little older than they were and I'd spent some time in Europe and that impressed them. Suddenly being the star student was a badge of honor rather than a brand of nerdy shame. I was so needy for friends that I looked the other way at questionable stuff, and I really wanted to believe they meant well with Sören. But then after my accident..." Anthony swallowed hard. "A couple of them made fun of me about, well..." He gestured to his cane. "And the others didn't bother to return my calls. I finally saw it for myself, what Sören had been trying to tell me, and I feel like an utter bloody moron that I didn't listen to him, I didn't want to think badly of the first set of people who'd wanted to be my friends. So if you're worried about my association with them getting in the way, you don't have to be. And if you're worried about me choosing questionable associations in the future..." Anthony shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Once bitten, twice shy, they say. I'm a bit wary of making friends now. I'd rather keep to myself than waste time on people who aren't worth it."  
  
Nicholas gave a small nod, and then he was quiet again, finishing off his lemonade. Anthony gestured to the pitcher. "Want a refill?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Anthony poured them each a refill and they continued to sit in silence. Anthony's heart was beating faster, and seemed to sink with every beat, worrying that now he'd also come off as some sort of anti-social, maladjusted person, and the way Nicholas's brows knit together as he drank, obviously deep in thought, didn't help the anxiety. _Shit. Shit. Shit..._  
  
The patio doors opened. Elaine stood there, looking smart in a light blue lacy short-sleeved blouse with navy blue capri pants and strappy white sandals showing manicured toes painted blue to match her outfit, her steel-grey pixie cut neatly styled, green eyes merry behind her wire-rimmed glasses, sapphire-set teardrops dangling from her ears. "We're home," Elaine said, and then she glanced at Nicholas with surprise. "Oh, you have company! I apologize for the interruption -"  
  
"Oh, ah... it's all right." Anthony glanced over at Nicholas, and back at his mother. "I, ah..." He didn't know how he was going to explain this to her.  
  
Then Elaine's eyebrows shot up, her eyes wide. "Jean-Luc, is that you?"  
  
For the briefest instant Anthony worried that his mother had dementia like his gran did, mistaking Nicholas for Patrick Stewart when he looked nothing like the actor, but then Nicholas's own face registered surprise, mouth opening, eyebrows lifting. "Elaine? Elaine MacLeod?"  
  
"Elaine Wyatt-Jones, now." Elaine's face lit up at the recognition; she came down the steps out to the garden and put her arms around Nicholas, kissing him on both cheeks French-style, as Nicholas chuckled and returned the hug. "Jean-Luc Decaux, it's been ages."  
  
Nicholas gave a nervous little clear of his throat. "I go by Nicholas now."  
  
"Ah, I see." Elaine nodded. "I'd heard a rumor that you went into the priesthood." She then gave Anthony a quizzical look like _I didn't know you'd got religion._  
  
 _Oh god, this is so awkward, shoot me._ Anthony tried not to facepalm. Before he could make an attempt at explaining the nature of Nicholas's visit, Elaine said, "Well, Father Nicholas, may I offer you refreshment? Coffee? Tea? I baked bread this morning -"  
  
"I'm fine for now, and please," Nicholas said, "I left the priesthood. It's not Father, just Nicholas."  
  
"I see," Elaine said, and Anthony thought her face registered a touch of relief.  
  
Nicholas nodded, as if he picked up on that as well. "My conscience bothered me what with the corruption and the scandal in the Church, well before it was ever publicized. Even if the Church hadn't been so plagued with abuse, it's not exactly a welcoming place for... people like myself." Anthony watched the small nod of acknowledgment from his mother, as if she knew exactly what he meant by that without Nicholas having to come right out and announce he was gay. Nicholas went on, "I started my life over again in my thirties. I became a professor, taught Classics at Merton College for awhile. Now I teach at UCL."  
  
"You taught at Oxford? Goodness," Elaine said. "But then, you always were a good teacher." Elaine turned to Anthony and explained, "The Decaux family lived next door when I was growing up. Jean-Luc... er, Nicholas, now... was my French tutor." Elaine turned back to Nicholas. "It was because of your French lessons that I was able to study in France. I went to École Nationale Supérieure d'Architecture de Paris-Belleville."  
  
" _Magnifique_ ," Nicholas said, with a small smile. " _Je suis très fier de toi._ "  
  
" _Merci beaucoup._ " Then Elaine gestured to the house. "I redesigned this house."  
  
"Just the exterior is lovely," Nicholas said. "I spent a moment admiring before I came out to the garden."  
  
"You ought to see the interior. Come inside, I'll give you the tour, maybe you'll change your mind about refreshments."  
  
Nicholas chuckled, and followed Elaine inside. Reluctantly, Anthony followed behind them, even though he wasn't going to tour the entire house as that meant stairs - he could climb small flights of stairs but it took a lot out of him, and as there were four floors, that was too much. Anthony also felt awkward about interrupting the reunion, so he got himself a glass of iced coffee from the fridge and took a seat in the greatroom, listening to snippets of Elaine and Nicholas's conversation that echoed, mostly Nicholas complimenting Elaine's design choices.  
  
Anthony also sat with the information he'd just been given. A few days ago after his meeting with Sören at the National, Anthony had attempted to look up Nicholas Decaux on the Internet. UCL did not have faculty bios on their website, and Nicholas was conspicuously absent from social media. But now, here were four pieces of the puzzle - that Nicholas had strong ties to his French roots, which probably gave him some common ground with Sören, an immigrant... that Nicholas knew his mother growing up... that Nicholas had once been a priest, and had strong enough convictions to leave the Church when he saw wrongdoing there... and that Nicholas had once taught at Oxford.  
  
That last rankled him. Oxford had been Anthony's first choice of university. He'd finished up his public school years pushing himself a little less hard than he'd started off, because he knew it was a strong contributor to why he was a target for bullying, so he had finished off Cambridge good, but not Oxford good. And certainly Cambridge was nothing to sneeze at, he'd gotten a fine education there and it still impressed people, but he knew - and his parents knew - he could have done better. He had membership at the prestigious Lincoln's Inn, and Garden Court Chambers was renowned... but he knew he could have perhaps gone farther with his law career if he'd gone to Oxford.  
  
And here was the other man, the one Sören was living with now, who had _taught_ there.  
  
"Beautiful work," Anthony heard Nicholas saying as their steps approached the greatroom. "I can only imagine that the other homes you've designed are exquisite."  
  
"I have a portfolio," Elaine said; they stepped into the greatroom. "I can show you sometime. But for now..." Elaine gestured to the couches and armchairs. "Please, take a seat. Let's catch up. Anthony, would you like a refill on your coffee?"  
  
"Yes, Mum, please." Anthony watched Nicholas sit down as he held out his glass, and Elaine dashed off to the kitchen.  
  
Elaine returned with the pitcher of iced coffee and tumblers, and more of her fresh baked bread. When Elaine sat, Nicholas took a piece of bread.  
  
"I'm surprised you recognized me," Nicholas said before he took a bite. He chewed and swallowed. "As you know, it's been a long time, and I look much older than the last time you saw me."  
  
"It's the eyes," Elaine said. "And the face. And you did recognize me, after all."  
  
"Age has been kind to you, _madame_ ," Nicholas said.  
  
Elaine snorted. " _You're_ kind. I know I look like an old lady now, but I decided to embrace it rather than trying to dye my hair or get Botox or other work done." Elaine glanced over at Anthony, who had the first few threads of silver in his black hair, as if to say, _You shouldn't be so self-conscious of your grey._  
  
It wasn't something Anthony minded on other people - certainly he hadn't minded Mikael being grey, and Nicholas was quite handsome. But Anthony still felt weird about the reminder that he was getting older; in his mind he was still twentysomething.  
  
"I did wonder what had become of you," Elaine said, sipping her iced coffee. "Like I said outside, I'd heard a rumor you'd gone into the priesthood, which carried weight since you were so devout growing up."  
  
"Key word being were," Nicholas said.  
  
"Hm, yes, I imagine what you saw in the Church would challenge your faith," Elaine said. "I'm very nominally Anglican, but not at all observant. My religion is kindness. I'm not so much for ritual and believing a big man in the sky is going to fix things for humanity, we have to look out for one another."  
  
"Very well said," Nicholas said, nodding.  
  
"But yes, I did try to look for you on Facebook when I finally broke down and got an account because my architecture associates kept nagging me." Elaine cocked her head to one side. "Are you on Facebook? Would you like to be Facebook friends?"  
  
Nicholas looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon. "I'd like to be actual friends. I despise social media, I shan't use it."  
  
That explained why Anthony couldn't find him. Anthony didn't know what to make of that, but he was starting to get the feeling Nicholas was probably old-fashioned, openly gay or not.  
  
"Actual friends is good," Elaine said. "Perhaps we can get together for tea sometime. Or find something to do together like antiquing, if that won't bore you -"  
  
"Oh heavens, no. My flat is full of antiques," Nicholas said.  
  
"And if you'll be coming around a bit..." Elaine gave Anthony a pointed look, then gave Nicholas a pointed look. "Then it would be nice for us to make each other's acquaintance again."  
  
Anthony's face was on fire. He couldn't deny that he found Nicholas attractive, and the thought of Nicholas and Sören in bed was arousing even as it was also painful, but... "Oh. God. Mum. We're... not..."  
  
"Ah. I see." Elaine nodded. "I apologize for the assumption. Anthony doesn't entertain company often -"  
  
Anthony shot her a look; even though he'd confessed to Nicholas in the garden that friends had been in short supply for him in the past, and presently, it was one thing for him to say that and another thing for his mother to announce something like that. Elaine seemed to realize, and stopped.  
  
"No apologies needed," Nicholas said with a nervous little laugh, looking as uncomfortable as Anthony felt. "But no, we're not dating."  
  
Elaine kept nodding. "All right. I don't want you to get the idea that I'd disapprove if you did, age is just a number and all -"  
  
" _Mother._ " Anthony glared. _Oh god, she's trying to set me up with this guy._  
  
Nicholas was beetroot. He opened his mouth, and just before he could say anything, Anthony heard something vibrate. Nicholas's eyebrows shot up and he said, "Excuse me, I have to take this." Nicholas took out a cell phone from his pocket and examined it. Anthony and Elaine watched as Nicholas read a text message and then fired off a response, and then Nicholas said, "You'll have to forgive me for cutting our catch-up short, but I'll need to get going..."  
  
"It's all right," Elaine said. "Before you go, may I have your cell number? And we can touch base sometime this week about catching up some more?"  
  
"Yes, let's do that," Nicholas said.  
  
They exchanged numbers, programming them into their phones as Anthony watched, feeling awkward about the whole thing - it was very _odd_ for Sören's partner to become friends with his own mother. But then, he wasn't going to stand in their way, they were both adults. _At least you don't feel too burned to make friends,_ Anthony thought bitterly, one more thing he didn't want to hate the other man for, but the petty, jealous part of him was responding anyway.  
  
Then Elaine said, "How did you get here, if you don't mind me asking? There's no car in the driveway..."  
  
"I took an overground service," Nicholas said.  
  
"Oh! Well, can I drive you back?" Elaine asked. "It's no trouble, and it's a lovely day for a ride. Roger, my husband, wanted to come back early and take a nap, or I'd still be out there. I love driving." It was something Anthony had inherited from his mother, though Anthony couldn't drive anymore since the accident, which had spooked him.  
  
"All right," Nicholas said, nodding. "If you don't mind going out to Covent Garden, where I live -"  
  
"I don't. And Covent Garden is fabulous. I'll get the car ready..." Elaine glanced at Anthony. "Do you want to come for the ride?"  
  
Anthony shook his head. Nicholas would need a lot of leg room, and it was hard enough for him to get in and out of a car.  
  
"OK, I'll give you two a moment, Nicholas, just come out when you're ready to go." Elaine waved at Anthony before she stepped out, and gave him another pointed look, as if to say _Now kiss._  
  
Anthony grabbed his cane, rose to his feet, and walked Nicholas to the door, then he exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry." His face was on fire again. "She -"  
  
"It's quite all right, Anthony. It was a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. Your mother was a very dear friend of mine growing up, it's nice to see her again."  
  
Anthony did the math; Nicholas was two years Elaine's senior. Anthony wondered about what their friendship must have looked like. Then Anthony's thoughts snapped back to the present, and the matter of Sören.  
  
"If there's anything else you want to ask me," Anthony said, "any other concerns you have, I can give you my cell number and -"  
  
"That shan't be necessary," Nicholas said, with a small shake of his head.  
  
 _Oh shit._ Anthony braced himself for the denial. He had never been this nervous awaiting a verdict in his life, not even with his court cases.  
  
"I will tell Sören that you two have my permission to... resume," Nicholas said, that last word slow and deliberate. He folded his arms. "I'll need to talk with him about scheduling and boundaries, but..."  
  
" _Thank you_." Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against the foyer wall, feeling almost as if he could faint.  
  
"Don't make me regret it, Anthony Wyatt-Jones." Nicholas turned to open the door and then spoke over his shoulder, "Have a good rest of the day."  
  
Anthony went back to sit on the couch, his heartbeat slowing now that the threat had passed. And with the relief came the flood. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony was curled up on the couch in the fetal position when Elaine got back, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. Elaine raised an eyebrow, but then ducked out to the kitchen to start dinner.  
  
Roger finally woke up from his nap and came downstairs, and put on the telly. Anthony attempted to read while Roger was engrossed in his program, but Anthony kept getting distracted, thinking of Nicholas saying yes, and how he was going to break the news to Sören. He thought about doing it now, but something in him told him to wait.  
  
Dinner was uneventful - Anthony worried that Elaine was going to bring up the visit with Nicholas, but she did not. Elaine simply asked about his time gardening, and the Norwegian course, and then Elaine and Roger talked about their errands earlier and things happening at different stores, and the British news and world news.  
  
After dinner Anthony excused himself to his room, mentally preparing himself for the call, and a short while later there was a knock on his door. Anthony sighed. "Come in," he said.  
  
Elaine stepped in, now in burgundy silk pajamas and a light black bathrobe, glancing around as if he were hiding someone in his room before she stepped in. She pulled up a chair and Anthony sat on the edge of his bed.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said, feeling supremely awkward.  
  
"Hi." Elaine folded her hands on her lap, a posture Anthony recognized himself taking when he was about to interview a client. "So... that was an interesting afternoon."  
  
"Very," Anthony said dryly. "How was the ride back?"  
  
"He was quiet," Elaine said, "but then, he was always quiet."  
  
"So he didn't tell you more about himself or what he's been up to..."  
  
"Well, he mentioned his cat was probably getting anxious." Elaine chuckled. Then she cocked her head to one side and folded her arms. "You know, I really do mean it. I don't want you to feel like you can't pursue him just because he and I were friends growing up, and I had a bit of a crush on him back in the day -"  
  
"MUM. _MOTHER._ " Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he lay his proverbial cards on the table. "Nicholas is Sören's partner."  
  
"Oh." Elaine's face fell. Then her eyes widened with alarm. "Oh god... is Sören all right? I know that girl Karen knows him, and..." Her hand covered her mouth, a look of horror on her face that anything might have happened to Sören.  
  
"He's fine, Mum. They live together in Covent Garden." Anthony gave a deep sigh. "I went to see Sören a few days ago at the National."  
  
" _That_ was where you were? And you didn't tell me -"  
  
"I didn't want you to get your hopes up if things ended badly," Anthony said.  
  
"Was that why Karen came by last week? To tell you to go see him?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "More or less," he said, not wanting to get into it that Karen had come to appraise whether or not that would even be a good idea.  
  
"And I take it Nicholas came by because..." Elaine frowned, her brow furrowing. "Oh dear."  
  
"No, it actually wasn't..." _Oh god, this is so awkward._ Anthony rubbed his face, and then he said, "Sören and Nicholas are in an open relationship."  
  
Elaine's eyebrows shot up, but then she simply nodded. "I see. Polyamory is becoming more socially acceptable now -"  
  
"Er, yes."  
  
"Sören's dating Karen too, isn't he?"  
  
 _God, you don't miss a thing, do you?_ "He is. He's bi. Anyway... Nicholas wanted to ask me some questions, namely about how things between me and Sören ended, my... account... of it, he'd already heard Sören's..."  
  
"Right."  
  
"And judge for himself if he was... all right... with me seeing Sören."  
  
"And?" Elaine was on the edge of her seat now.  
  
"He said yes," Anthony said.  
  
Elaine got up and hugged him tight. Anthony felt her tremble and he knew then that she was crying, and when he looked up he saw her break down in sobs. That set off Anthony crying too, even though he was exhausted from crying earlier - the breakup with Sören hadn't just been difficult for Anthony, but for Elaine as well, who loved Sören like he was her own. "Oh, Mum."  
  
"I'm sorry," Elaine said. She reached for tissues on Anthony's desk. "I've really missed that boy."  
  
"Well, now you'll probably see him once in awhile. He's still working at the National, he's still working a lot of hours, but -"  
  
"I'm sure you can arrange something to bring him around." Then Elaine chuckled. "At least I don't have to worry about him eating properly if he's living with Nicholas. He loves to cook. It was not common in those days, to see a teenage boy who liked cooking so much, but he did."  
  
Anthony felt another prickle of jealousy, remembering how his lack of domesticity had been a sticking point at the end, how guilty he'd felt about it. It was another twist of the knife. _Oxford. Cooking. What else?_  
  
Elaine handed Anthony a wad of tissues. Anthony wiped at his tears. "I can't believe any of this is happening," Anthony said. "I've missed him so much -"  
  
"Why are you telling that to _me_?" Elaine grabbed Anthony's cell phone off the desk, thrusting it at him. "Call him. Ask him on a date, now that you can."  
  
" _Mother._ "  
  
Elaine gave him a mock stern look. "Do it or you're grounded, Cornelius Anthony."  
  
Anthony laughed and shook his head.  
  
"Besides, I need to go tell your father. He'll be thrilled. Well..." Elaine made a face. "Maybe not with the polyamory, that's something we'd... need to break to him slowly. But..."  
  
"Oh god, Mum, do you have to tell Dad about Sören now? Can't it wait?"  
  
"We've been waiting almost two years." With that, Elaine rushed off, but she paused a few steps from the doorway, yelled, "CALL HIM," and then she hurried off.  
  
Anthony facepalmed, then he took a deep breath and hit Sören's number on speed dial.


	4. Open Arms

Nicholas had been gone for an hour and Sören was getting antsy. He knew, of course, that Nicholas had gone to see Anthony in Blackheath and it was likely going to take awhile for Nicholas to give "the interview", as Sören privately thought of it. But it still put him on edge, like he was waiting for test results, except the test was his life.  
  
Sören's phone went off and Sören answered it immediately... but it was Karen, not Nicholas. "Hey, _elskan._ " Even though he was still a little irritated with her, the endearment still came out - and he did still love her and want to be with her, after all.  
  
"Hi," Karen said, and Sören thought he heard her breathe a small sigh of relief at the word. He winced, not wanting her to think he hated her. Then she went on, "Do you know what Dad is making for dinner tonight? Geir and I thought it might be nice to bring dessert, or wine, or both, as a sort of peace offering."  
  
"I don't," Sören said truthfully.  
  
"Can you go ask him? I'll hold."  
  
"Well, I would, but he's not here right now."  
  
"Oh! Is he grocery shopping, or..."  
  
"He went to see Anthony." Sören looked at the grandfather clock instinctively, even though he had just looked at it a couple minutes ago. "He left a little over an hour ago. I don't know what time he's getting back, though I assume it'll be in time to start making dinner."  
  
"Well, I have an idea. Since he hasn't started dinner yet, how about Geir and I come over and make dinner for you guys and surprise him? I really want to do something nice for Dad to ease the tension."  
  
"You could," Sören said. "Although, to be honest, I want to talk to you, and I think it'd be better to have that talk while Nick isn't here, since this is between us. You can still bring Geir, if he doesn't mind working in the kitchen by himself a bit."  
  
"I'll talk to him. We may not come alone in that case, we'll drag Craig along."  
  
"Yes, put that boy to work," Sören said, chuckling. "Tell him Sir says."  
  
Karen giggled then. "You got it. We'll be over in about ten minutes, OK?"  
  
"All right. Love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
Sören blew a kiss into the phone just to further put Karen's mind at ease before he ended the call. He felt a nervous twinge about Craig coming along, knowing Karen's little brother Ben and Ben's Haitian partner Pierre were also coming later. Ben and Craig had been best friends before Craig began drifting from him prior to his second overdose, and while they were newly on speaking terms it was still fraught and still awkward to have them in the same place at the same time, and that awkwardness would be compounded by the current tension with Karen and Nicholas. But Sören didn't want Craig to feel like he had to stay home and eat frozen pizza or something while everyone else was there; he'd only recently gotten past his reserve of being included in things after Nicholas invited him to come for Sunday family dinners, with Sören assuring him he was welcome.  
  
Ten minutes later, right on time, there was a key in the lock. "PRRRP?" Tobias came trotting over, and, tail high in the air, immediately began to rub against Karen, Geir, and Craig, each of whom stooped in turn to pet him.  
  
Then Sören came over with a "PRRRP?" of his own, making them laugh, and began to wiggle his butt in an imitation of the cat, rubbing against each of his three lovers, who took turns skritching his curls and his beard.  
  
Geir was carrying bags of groceries, presumably they'd brought their own food over to cook for everyone. Sören drew Geir into his arms first. Geir Strøm was as tall as Nicholas, with a short black fauxhawk, black goatee, and intensely blue eyes, pale and had a chiseled face like a model, and Sören knew under his clothes - black jeans and a charcoal grey T-shirt, form-fitting - there was a hard, sculpted body; though Geir was a flautist by profession, he worked out regularly. Sören wanted to paint him one of these days, but when Geir got naked, painting tended to be the last thing on Sören's mind. Sören and Geir kissed deeply, tongues swirling with the promise of more the next time they were alone. "Hello, love," Geir said in his charming Norwegian accent. "I've missed you." Geir stole another kiss.  
  
"I've missed you too, _elskan_ ," Sören said, stroking Geir's face before he pulled back, and Geir made his way to the kitchen to put the grocery bags on the counter.  
  
Next was Craig. Craig Fetherstonhaugh was twenty-three, turning twenty-four that September, but he felt even younger than that to Sören, like someone just starting adulthood - Craig was vulnerable in his recovery, and Sören felt intensely protective of him. Craig wasn't the first person Sören had ever felt protective of - he and Anthony had both mutually looked out for each other while they were together - but he was the first person to bring out a sort of parental instinct. Craig was a couple inches shorter than Sören, sporting a light tan from the summer sun, and today he was wearing a red-and-blue striped short-sleeve T-shirt and dark blue jeans with brown penny loafers. His short sandy hair was tousled, mischief in his blue eyes and a smirk on his full lips as he approached Sören for a hug. Sören breathed in the citrus-and-mint smell of his cologne before he gently kissed the tip of Craig's nose and stroked Craig's dimples as he leaned in and whispered, "Have you been a good boy?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Craig said. "Another week clean, still going to outpatient."  
  
"Good." Sören pulled him closer, enjoying the feel of Craig's slender yet strong body against his, and claimed his mouth then, hot and passionate. Craig moaned into the kiss, and moaned again as Sören's hands slid down his back to cup his ass. Sören gave his ass a playful swat and said, "If you're a very good boy and you help Geir in the kitchen, I'll give you a reward the next time I see you."  
  
Craig _ran_ into the kitchen and rolled up his sleeves and got to washing his hands right away, making Geir and Karen laugh.  
  
"And what kind of reward are you giving your pet?" Geir asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Sören was thinking about a massage or a blowjob, or maybe even both, but he couldn't resist teasing Craig a little and watching him react. "I will refrain from Rickrolling him for an entire week." Sören checked in with Craig via e-mail a couple of times each week and sent him self-help/positivity links but almost always, one of the links went to the YouTube video of "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley - itself a tribute to when Craig had gotten very down on himself after his overdose and insisted everyone should give up on him, and Sören had been just as insistent that he would not. Craig still fell for the Rickroll every time; he hadn't learned by now. "Maybe." Sören cackled.  
  
Craig shot Sören a look across the room, and Sören failed at winking back, and blew him a kiss. Craig rolled his eyes, caught it, and then gave Sören the finger before rummaging in the cupboards for pots and pans.  
  
"Keep it up and you'll earn yourself a spanking," Sören said.  
  
Craig put up both middle fingers, and gave a sassy butt wiggle.  
  
Sören couldn't help laughing. He liked it when Craig was a little bratty. _Like Master, like pet._  
  
Sören turned to Karen last, but not least. Her platinum blonde hair was loose, spilling down her shoulders and back. She was wearing a lacy cream short-sleeved blouse and white capris, with strappy beige sandals. There was love in her blue eyes and a smile on her sweet face as she stepped closer to Sören, and Sören took a moment to stroke her face and her hair, planted a kiss on her brow, before their mouths met. Karen threw her arms around him and kissed him back hungrily. Sören shivered at the feel of her curves against him - he was already a little worked up at the thought of taking Craig over his knee, and this didn't help.  
  
When they pulled apart, they looked into each other's eyes for a moment, both breathing a little harder, and then Sören glanced over at Geir and Craig in the kitchen. "OK, we're going upstairs and having a private discussion," Sören said. "Don't set the kitchen on fire or anything."  
  
"Awww, no fun," Geir teased.  
  
Sören led the way upstairs and Karen followed, with Tobias trotting along beside them, every few paces turning his head to look at them expectantly, like _Why aren't you petting me?_ When they reached the top of the stairs Tobias circled their legs, rubbing against them and headbutting, and Sören squat to pet him. Tobias hopped up on Sören's shoulder, and clung to Sören with his claws as Sören rose back up. Sören shrugged and Tobias rode on Sören's shoulder all the way to the guest bedroom.  
  
Karen sat on the edge of the bed in the guest bedroom and Sören pulled up a chair, facing her. Tobias continued to drape himself on Sören's shoulder, purring and kneading. Sören took a few minutes to stroke the cat, and Karen reached out to stroke him too, which got Tobias headbutting and nuzzling her hand, finally hopping down onto Sören's lap and leaping over to Karen, who stroked and skritched him some more.  
  
"OK," Sören said. "Let's talk."  
  
Karen nodded. "Am I forgiven yet?" She raised an eyebrow. "Will I be forgiven?"  
  
Sören chuckled, and then he sighed. "I've found it hard to articulate why you going to Anthony and giving him my schedule bothered me so much -"  
  
"Yes, and it isn't exactly like you mind the idea of getting back together with him," Karen said, looking him in the eye.  
  
Sören gave her a small nod, then he folded his arms and said, "But it did bother me. And it still sort of does. And I finally figured out how to explain why it bothers me."  
  
"Well, by all means. I'd rather you be honest with me if I say or do something that upsets you, than have you pretend everything is fine and stew in silent resentment," Karen said.  
  
"It's not resentment," Sören said softly. "I'm not _that_ mad. Just a little mad. But yes, now I'll tell you why."  
  
"I give you the floor," Karen said. Tobias got down from her lap and Karen leaned back on the bed.  
  
Sören took a deep breath. "It wasn't so much _that_ you gave my schedule to Anthony and told him to go see me at the National, as the fact that you did it without telling me and touching base with me first. And yes, _yes_ , I _know_ that if you'd given me advance warning there's a chance I would have reacted badly and done what I could to thwart the meeting, like avoiding the cafe on my break... but it still bothers me that you didn't tell me. It's the whole... secretive nature of it, going behind my back and making decisions that will affect me without talking to me about it, that gets me wound up. I'm not saying this is the same situation, but when Anthony cheated on me with that guy from Grindr almost two years ago, he went behind my back to set up a Grindr profile and make arrangements to go fuck this ho without giving me any indication that things were on the rocks, and like I keep saying, if he'd come to me, I would have been OK with him getting a bit on the side if I knew about it and I approved of the guy. Again, this isn't the same situation, but the whole going-behind-my-back thing _especially_ in the context of Anthony fucking triggers me. If you want me and him to start over again it needs to be done right, and already we have dishonesty and going behind my back out the gate, here. And I have a real issue with that sort of thing."  
  
"God." Karen's face fell. "I'm really sorry. I hadn't realized it would be _triggering_ to you. I just thought that he needed to use the element of surprise to even have a conversation with you, and -"  
  
"I know," Sören said. "And I know you meant well, _elskan_. And it's useless for me to keep beating a dead horse by telling you that you overstepped bounds with this. I just want you to understand that _going forward_ , I don't want you to make decisions like this that will directly affect me without talking to me about it first, even if you think I'd react badly. Because finding out that once again people are going behind my back and making decisions that will directly affect me, without even my knowledge let alone my consent... well, I'm not here to keep getting triggered by people who are supposed to be on my side, is what I'm saying. I _will_ , and _do_ , forgive you for this, I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but don't let it happen again."  
  
"OK, fair enough. And I'm sorry, Sören. I was only trying to look out for you." Karen bit her lower lip.  
  
"I know. And I mean, I can't tell you that what you did was entirely bad... I don't know what Nick will decide about us, but if nothing else I got to have a conversation with Anthony that's been overdue for two years. There's starting to be... closure... for that wound." Sören put a hand on his heart. "I can't say I'm not grateful at all that you went to talk to him. Just... you know. In future, come talk to me first?"  
  
"I will." Karen took his hands now and squeezed them. Then she said, "I have two questions."  
  
"Shoot," Sören said.  
  
Karen smirked. "What about things like your birthday or Christmas, or wanting to surprise you just because?"  
  
"Don't be a smartarse, _elskan_ , you know you don't have to tell me in advance for that." Sören gave her feet a playful little kick, and Karen kicked him right back, before her foot slid up his calf, sending a shiver through him.  
  
"The second question is..." Karen giggled. "When do we have makeup sex?"  
  
Sören threw back his head, laughter ringing out. "A woman after my own heart."  
  
Karen gave him a naughty look, and then she got up from the bed and scrambled to shut the door to the guest room. When the door was closed, she peeled off her blouse, revealing an off-white lace pushup bra.  
  
"Oh my," Sören said, not able to keep from ogling.  
  
Karen sauntered over to him, a wicked grin on her face. When she stood in front of him, she unclasped the front of her bra and Sören's breath hitched at the sight of her breasts, rosy nipples hard.  
  
"You know, this is making it difficult to be mad at you," Sören said. "This is making it difficult to think, period."  
  
"Good," Karen said. "That was the plan."  
  
Sören laughed softly, and then he drew a nipple into his mouth. Karen gasped, and clutched at his head, tugging on his curls, moaning as he suckled. Her moans got louder as his tongue lashed the nipple, and swirled around and around before his lips latched around it again, sucking harder. Then Sören's fingers and rubbed the nipple as he turned his head to lavish love on the other, suckling, lapping. He went back and forth between them, teasing, enjoying the sight of her nipples glistening and swollen, his cock hard and throbbing for her.  
  
Karen shucked her capris and Sören looked at the lacy off-white panties, admiring... wanting them off. But instead of pulling them off with his hands, his arms encircled her waist, drawing her closer, and his teeth latched onto the waistband. Karen giggled as he growled, tugging the panties down with his teeth, exposing the silver-blonde bush. When the panties were halfway down her thighs, Sören buried his nose in it, rubbing his nose in the silky hair, breathing in the scent of her arousal, and Karen moaned again, moaning louder as his hands pulled the panties downward. She stepped out of them, and he kissed her navel, slid his tongue down to her thigh. A shiver went through her, crying out, and now she was moving back towards the bed, pulling Sören up from his seat, leading him.  
  
Sören got his T-shirt and jean shorts off as fast as he could, and then they were on the bed together, naked, tangled up, kissing fiercely, passionately, starving for it. Sören's hands slid over her, and he gave an appreciative groan as she trembled at his touch. "You're beautiful," he husked, and began kissing and licking her neck, cock jolting as she cried out, nails raking him urgently.  
  
"Oh god." Karen shuddered and grabbed at him again, moaning. "Oh god, Sören..."  
  
Sören continued kissing, licking and nipping at her neck, throat, and shoulder, knowing what she liked. His hard cock rubbed against her thigh. "Yes?"  
  
"God, yes..." Then Karen made a high-pitched noise as he kissed and licked the sensitive place just below her throat.  
  
Sören's kisses trailed to the hollow between her breasts. He lovingly nuzzled her heart and gave it a soft, sweet little kiss before he resumed making love to her breasts again, playing with one nipple as he lapped and suckled the other. His free hand strayed between her legs, and he smiled as he felt how soaked she was; even her thighs were slick. "You are already so wet, _elskan mín_."  
  
"I've been thinking about you all day," Karen whispered. "Wanting you..."  
  
His fingers found her clit, and he rubbed while he continued to suck and lick at her nipples, making her arch to him, panting, gasping, pulling on his curls, moaning, "Sören. _Sören._ Oh god. Oh god..."  
  
"Beautiful," Sören murmured, and kissed between her breasts again. " _Þú ert listaverk, fallegri en nokkuð sem ég gæti sjálfur málað._ "  
  
"Oh _god._ " Karen shuddered and moaned louder, nails digging in him again; she had a weakness for him speaking his native language in intimate moments... all his partners did. _Especially Anthony,_ Sören thought with a wistful pang.  
  
" _Fallega gyðja mín, ég vil dýrka þig._ " Then Sören tasted her from his fingers, meeting her eyes, letting her see the lust in his own as he savored the tangy, musky sweetness.  
  
Sören licked a trail down from the hollow between her breasts to her navel, making her quiver and moan again. His fingers walked the path his tongue had followed, and then he began to kiss around her navel, kissed and licked her stomach, knowing how sensitive she was there, cock throbbing as she got more vocal, moaning, panting, whimpering. He licked from her navel down to a thigh, and began kissing and nibbling her thighs, savoring the taste of the wetness dripping.  
  
At last he parted her folds, and his tongue began to tease around and around her clit, his cock hardening even more as he looked at her, smelled her, tasted her. He started kissing her clit, lips pressing into her, tongue swirling slowly, and Karen cried out, bucking against him, grabbing his head again.  
  
"Oh god, Sören. Oh god, Sören..." She let out a wordless shout and tugged on his curls.  
  
Sören laughed softly and continued kissing her clit, then kissed the lips, sucking on them, making her cry out again before he went back to licking around her clit, teasing. When he got down to business, tongue lashing, Karen screamed, writhing, and Sören watched as cream dripped, which he chased with his tongue. It was all he could do to not stroke himself and bring himself off right then.  
  
His tongue lapped away, and then a moment later he was sucking on her clit, his cock aching at the noises she made. Their eyes met and there was a feverish, wild look in her eyes, and when he went back to kissing her clit, Karen grabbed his curls hard, pulling his head up.  
  
"Did I do something wrong?" Sören asked.  
  
" _No,_ " Karen said, and the vehemence in her voice made her laugh a little. Then she bit her lower lip and husked, "I want to take care of you, too."  
  
"Oh." Sören's eyes widened, realizing what she meant. " _Oh._ "  
  
"Yeah. Get over here."  
  
Sören climbed over and Karen pulled him down into a passionate kiss, tasting herself on him, then she shoved him onto his back, making Sören laugh, amused and delighted with her urgency. Karen straddled his shoulders and then she lay down on top of him, her head between his legs. Sören resumed sucking on her clit, and he moaned into her as he felt her take his cock into her mouth.  
  
One of Sören's favorite things about sixty-nine was that he could rub and caress the back of whoever was laying atop him. He did that now as he sucked and kissed her clit, his fingers playing over Karen's spine, enjoying the way she trembled at his touch.  
  
When Karen got really into it, sucking his cock hard and fast, Sören pushed his tongue inside her, tongue-fucking her. She gave a high-pitched noise with her mouth full and started riding his face, fucking herself on his mouth, which he loved. A few minutes later he was kissing and sucking her clit again, his fingers working in and out of her, knowing from the noises she made that she was getting closer. She took his cock out of her mouth to lick it and he licked her clit too, both of them teasing each other right to that edge, and once his cock was in her mouth again, he was sucking on her clit once more, fingers rubbing inside her, feeling her shake as she was right there, so close.  
  
Finally it happened, Karen howling around his cock as she contracted against his lips, juices gushing. Sören let go and came, and Karen made a "mmmm" of pleasure as he spent in her mouth. He sipped at the dripping nectar and then licked her to a fast, furious second climax. She lay on him for a moment, catching her breath, and then she rolled off, turned herself around, and crawled up to him, and they kissed deeply. Sören stroked her hair, her face, kissed her brow, kissed her mouth again, enjoying their tastes mingling together.  
  
"That never gets old," Karen said, giving him a smile of dazed bliss before she snuggled into his chest.  
  
Sören wrapped his arms around her and held her, rocking her a little, petting her hair, admiring its beauty... admiring the beauty of Karen resting, looking totally at peace. He was relieved they'd resolved their issue rather quickly, not wanting there to be distance and tension between them. For a moment he wondered what life would have been like if, when they'd met in Reykjavik years ago, her purse hadn't gotten stolen and they'd stayed in touch... maybe a long-distance relationship would have become a live-in relationship when he decided to come to the UK. But then, a lot of other things would have been different, and Sören couldn't say he regretted meeting Anthony - despite the pain Anthony had caused him - or meeting Nicholas. At least he had Karen now, and they were making up for lost time.  
  
Sören liked cuddling at least as much as he liked sex, if not more. Usually after sex, between post-orgasmic relaxation and the wonderful content feeling of being safe and cozy with his lover, Sören would drift off and nap for awhile. But as Karen rested, Sören found himself laying awake, looking at the clock on the bedtable, wondering how things were going with Nicholas and Anthony. He started to get worried again, even though he knew he shouldn't be, probably.  
  
Now he was feeling fidgety. And Karen seemed to pick up on it, opening her eyes with a concerned noise as she felt Sören shift. "Are you OK?" Karen asked.  
  
"No," Sören admitted. "I'm..." He looked at the clock again.  
  
"Worried about the meeting."  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm sorry. I -"  
  
Karen put a finger to his lips. "It's OK. It's understandable." She kissed his cheek. Then she got up and stretched - Sören gave a little groan as he looked at her naked body, wishing they had more time to play - and Sören watched as she grabbed his shorts from the floor, and pulled out the cell phone she knew he kept in his pocket.  
  
"Here," she said, handing it to him.  
  
Sören took a deep breath. He didn't want to call in case he was interrupting the conversation, so he sent a text message to Nicholas.  
  
 _How's it going?_  
  
Karen began to get dressed, and Sören did as well. A couple of minutes after he sent the text he got one back.  
  
 _It's going. I'll be home soon._  
  
That told Sören nothing about what the meeting had been like, if Nicholas had reached a decision for or against, but then Sören knew that Nicholas hated texting and kept his messages brief and to the point. Sören still made a face as he continued to put his clothes back on.  
  
Then he and Karen sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, continuing to snuggle. "I love you," Sören said, taking her hand.  
  
"I love you too." Karen kissed the tip of his nose. "I hope the meeting went OK." She gave him a sad smile. "I hope they didn't kill each other."  
  
"Yeah, no shit. I know Nick isn't happy with what he did."  
  
Karen nodded. "None of us are. But if you want to give him a second chance, Dad should respect that."  
  
"Well," Sören said, "I can't exactly blame him for having misgivings, and even without the trust issues involved, I know this is... you know. Another partner. Someone else he has to share me with."  
  
"I'm sure we can all work something out," Karen said, patting him.  
  
They went downstairs. Geir and Craig were making ziti with meatballs and sausage, and Tobias was begging for food. Karen took over from Craig in the kitchen, and Craig came over and sat on Sören's lap as Sören put the television on, and that was how Nicholas found them when he came back.  
  
"Hello," Nicholas said, waving at everyone. Then he glanced at the kitchen. "Oh goodness, you didn't have to cook -"  
  
"We wanted to," Geir said. "We didn't want you to feel..."  
  
"Unappreciated," Karen said. "Like we don't care."  
  
"And Craig helped," Sören said, patting Craig as he climbed off Sören's lap and took a seat on the armchair so Nicholas could sit down next to Sören.  
  
"I did something useful," Craig said.  
  
 _Ouch._ Sören knew Craig was still a bit stung by Nicholas's lecture back in March after Craig's second overdose. Sören didn't think Nicholas had been entirely wrong, and Sören had a few words for Craig himself - then, more than a few words, later - but he also knew Craig was a lot more sensitive than he pretended to be and didn't easily let things go.  
  
But instead of saying something defensive, Nicholas simply patted Craig's shoulder and gave it an encouraging rub on his way over to Sören. "Thank you for helping," Nicholas said to him.  
  
Craig's mouth opened, and before he could say anything, Tobias hopped up on Craig's lap and began to aggressively headbutt him, wanting pettings.  
  
"He likes you," Sören said, and he didn't just mean the cat.  
  
Nicholas patted Sören's knee. Sören knew Nicholas had become grudgingly fond of Craig, and Sören teased him about it sometimes, telling Nicholas in private "it seems Toby isn't the only stray you adopted."  
  
Geir brought over tea for everyone, and just as Geir and Karen sat down to take a break, Ben and Pierre chose that moment to arrive. Ben and Craig gave each other a curt nod, while Pierre was warmer, and they took their seats in the living room as well.  
  
"The family's all here," Sören said, a warm, fuzzy feeling going through him that after his dysfunctional childhood and so many years of loneliness, he finally had something he'd always wanted.  
  
But then the warm fuzzies were chased by an ache. He missed Anthony. He wondered how Anthony would fit in to the picture, or if he would at all.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The rooftop garden was crowded - a couple of months ago, Nicholas had gotten more chairs to make room for everyone on "family night". But dinner was festive rather than stifling, especially with the fairy lights and lanterns lit, and music playing. After dinner, Pierre and Geir danced together, and then Karen grabbed Sören and made him dance with her, and then Sören made Nicholas dance with him as well, while Ben and Pierre danced and Geir and Karen danced.  
  
"I don't," Craig said when Sören gave him a pointed look.  
  
"You do now." Sören picked Craig up from his chair and spun him around, as Karen and Geir collapsed on each other in hysterics.  
  
The group headed back downstairs when dinner was over, and of his own volition, without being told, Craig started tackling the dishes. Sören came over to help, although it was also an excuse to be close to his pet.  
  
"It looks good on you," Sören said.  
  
"What?" Craig looked down at his outfit, puzzled.  
  
"A smile." Sören pinched his dimples.  
  
Craig's smile got bigger - and cockier. Sören kissed his cheek.  
  
It was indeed nice to see Craig in a good mood, which was a sign of continued recovery and progress. Sören had encouraged him months ago to "get high on life", and he hoped that they were collectively doing a good job of showing Craig he could enjoy life without drugs, and that the company of this family-of-choice was healthier than the crowd Craig had been running with before his overdose.  
  
After the dishes were done, Sören gave Craig a big hug.  
  
"What's that for?" Craig asked, hugging him back.  
  
Sören sighed - even though he knew Craig relished physical contact, he had been touch-starved for so long, Craig still didn't know what to make of it precisely because of how long he'd been touch-starved, growing up in an upper-class British household where men weren't supposed to hug men and men had to keep a stiff upper lip and not admit to vulnerability and needing comfort. Sören imagined it had contributed to why Craig and his ex Emily had parted ways. Anthony's background was posh but a little less posh than Craig's and Anthony didn't exactly try to be macho but even he had struggles with his pride and difficulties with admitting when he wasn't doing well, which had definitely contributed to why things went pear-shaped, and Sören was desperately hoping there wouldn't be a repeat of it now. Sören kissed Craig's brow and smoothed his sandy waves. "No reason. Just wanted to hold you, is all."  
  
Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder and Sören's arms tightened around him. For a moment he just wanted to put Craig in a protective bubble - Craig had to take his sobriety day by day, week by week, Sören knew it was a constant vigilance for him. But Sören also knew he could only do so much for Craig and it would actually be detrimental to be overprotective.  
  
When they pulled apart, Sören gave him a little kiss, and poked his nose. "You're going to be a good boy this week, right?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Do you want to come by the National for lunch on Tuesday?" Sören's job wasn't far from where Craig went to his outpatient services, and when their schedules aligned Sören liked to invite Craig to have lunch with him.  
  
"OK." Then Craig bit his lower lip and gave Sören a look that was almost shy. "Am I seeing you any other time this week?"  
  
Sören glanced over at Nicholas. On weeks where Sören didn't have an overnight shift, he and Nicholas had worked out an arrangement where Sören got two nights free to spend with other partners, leaving Nicholas the other five nights, though Sören didn't always use both of those two nights - he still liked to have the occasional "date night" with Nicholas even though they were living together and technically everything was a date now. Nicholas, watching the exchange between Sören and Craig, gave him a small nod. Sören turned back to Craig. "Wednesday night work for you?"  
  
"Yeah, it does."  
  
"OK." Sören tousled his hair again, and then he went over to Nicholas, wanting to make sure Nicholas didn't feel neglected.  
  
Nicholas pulled Sören close. "How's my boy?"  
  
"Good." Sören rubbed his nose in Nicholas's whiskers. Then he pouted, not able to contain his curiosity any longer, and knew the puppydog face got him every time. "I'd be doing better if Daddy told me how it went."  
  
Nicholas chuckled and rubbed Sören's shoulder. "I was thinking of going on my evening walk. As you know, you usually accompany me. We could talk about it then."  
  
Karen, of course, was eavesdropping. "I could use some air," Karen said, and Sören knew by "air", she meant "news on how it went with Anthony". Karen gave Nicholas a hopeful look. "Can I come with you?"  
  
"You're physically capable," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören tried not to laugh at the filthy look Karen gave him. Then Nicholas gave her a little smile that was more of a smirk and he said, "Of course, dear."  
  
There was enough trust with the rest of the group to leave them alone in the flat as Nicholas, Sören and Karen headed out, though Karen announced before they took off that she was going home for the evening.  
  
The temperature had cooled down some - it was still warm but not too warm, and there was a pleasant breeze stirring. The last of the sunset was yielding to dusk, and Sören watched the sky, thinking of Anthony.  
  
"So first," Nicholas said, breaking the silence, "Karen, I forgive you."  
  
Karen made a little happy noise and rushed over to hug Nicholas, who squeezed her warmly and gave her gentle pats.  
  
"In future," Nicholas said, "I would prefer to be consulted about anything that could potentially impact my relationship with Sören, or my life in general. Do you understand?"  
  
"I do," Karen said. "And Sören and I had a talk earlier."  
  
"I heard," Nicholas muttered, and Sören knew from that someone had probably made a crack about the noises upstairs, while Sören was in the bathroom.  
  
Karen tried to keep a straight face, and failed, and Nicholas went on, "I know you meant well. I know you were just trying to look out for Sören. I cannot fault you for that. But please -"  
  
Karen held up a hand and just nodded. "I get it, Dad. And I'm sorry. Going forward, you will be kept in the loop."  
  
"Good." Nicholas nodded, and patted her again. Then he turned to Sören. "As for you, young man..."  
  
"Am I grounded?" Sören couldn't resist.  
  
"You're always grounded," Nicholas said, and swatted Sören's ass. Karen giggled, and Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. Nicholas went on, "As you know, I went to see Anthony this afternoon. We had a bit of a talk. It was very... informative. It got particularly interesting when his mother showed up."  
  
"Oh, you met Elaine?" Sören smiled, thinking fondly of his former-almost-mother-in-law. "I miss her."  
  
"Elaine's family lived next door to mine when I was growing up," Nicholas said. "I tutored Elaine in French, as you know, I grew up with it as my native language in tandem with English, and she told me today she had gone to architecture school in France. Just the house they live in, that she redesigned herself, is impressive."  
  
"That house is something else," Sören said, feeling that wistful ache again.  
  
"Anyway," Nicholas said, "Elaine and I have exchanged cell numbers and it is likely that one of these days we may get together for coffee or go antiquing. With that being said, my position regarding Anthony was already decided before she arrived and she did not influence that decision."  
  
The pit of Sören's stomach rose. "Oh," he said quietly, fearing the worst.  
  
"You both have my permission to see each other," Nicholas said, "with some caveats. We are going to have to discuss schedule, and... boundaries."  
  
There was a long pause - Sören couldn't believe he said yes. Then Sören squeaked and threw his arms around Nicholas, squeezing him tight, rocking him back and forth. "You said yes?"  
  
"I did." Nicholas kissed Sören's brow. Then he gave Sören a stern look. "He had better not hurt you again."  
  
"That goes for me too," Karen said, steel in her voice.  
  
Nicholas nodded. "He does sound sincere. He..." Nicholas exhaled sharply. "What he did to you was not right, and he owns his responsibility for that, but I almost feel sorry for him. _Almost._ "  
  
"Yeah." Sören nodded. "Like I told you when I mentioned he showed up at the National, his side of things makes it harder to hate him." Sören snorted. "I guess that's a microcosm of why he went into criminal defense in the first place."  
  
"Well, he is guilty, but he is allowed a second chance. A, meaning, one." Nicholas's eyes narrowed. "I will be watching."  
  
Sören's mind went immediately into the gutter, thinking about Nicholas watching him and Anthony have sex, which then turned into a scorchingly delicious fantasy of having a threesome with Nicholas and Anthony. _Oh good lord,_ Sören chastised himself. _Anthony and I haven't even gone on a second first date yet, and you're already thinking like this?_  
  
As if on cue, Sören's cell phone rang in his pocket.  
  
"That better not be work," Sören gritted out. Though he didn't tend to get called in more than a few times a month, it was still a thing he had to be prepared for, and Sören really did not want to spend an overnight at the National; he was hoping to have some quality snuggle time with Nicholas when everyone went home, and probably a bit more.  
  
Sören pulled out his cell and was relieved - and excited - to see Anthony's number. He accepted the call. "Anthony! Hi!"  
  
"Hi, Sören." Anthony breathed a little sigh, one that made Sören's stomach flutter. "Er... am I calling at a bad time? Am I interrupting -"  
  
"No, I'm just on a walk. What's up?"  
  
"Well..." Anthony cleared his throat. "I assume Nicholas told you -"  
  
"Jæja, he did. I hope he didn't scare you too much." And then Sören couldn't resist adding, "Just enough."  
  
Nicholas's eyes twinkled with amusement and Sören tried to wink at him and failed.  
  
"We had a bit of a talk, yes. So I'll get right down to business here... may I take you on a date? Soon?"  
  
"I'd like that," Sören said sincerely. He felt himself biting his lip. "I'd like that a lot."  
  
"Are you free this upcoming Saturday night?"  
  
Saturday was the fourth of July. "Saturday..." Sören racked his brain - it was difficult to think in the giddy rush of hearing Anthony's voice, the mental image of him on the other line, so handsome - then his eyes met Karen's. "This Saturday's not good, I have a date with Karen -"  
  
Karen snatched the phone out of Sören's hand. "Hi, Anthony," Karen said brightly.  
  
"Hello, Bella Swan," Anthony's voice rang out on the other end.  
  
Karen's eyes narrowed, and Sören remembered the story she'd told him of how her given name was Bella and _Twilight_ had come out when they were in school together. "Disregard what that idiot just said," Karen said into the phone. "Sören and I can take a rain check. You guys go out this Saturday night. OK? Here's Sören." Karen handed the phone back to him.  
  
As Sören took the phone back, he asked her, "Are you sure -"  
  
"Would I have bloody done that if I wasn't sure?" Karen put a hand on her hip and gave him a stern look.  
  
Nicholas shook with badly disguised silent laughter. Now Sören shot Nicholas a look and Nicholas stopped trying to restrain it. "So, ah, you heard her," Sören said. "I guess I have Saturday night free after all."  
  
"Good," Anthony said. "Does dinner and a movie sound all right?"  
  
"Yeah," Sören said. "It does. Um... we're taking a taxi, right?"  
  
"Unless you want Mum to drive us, and I certainly don't."  
  
Sören gigglesnorted at the thought of Elaine driving them around, like a chaperone. "We can take a cab."  
  
"I'll come get you," Anthony said. "Do you have a particular film in mind?"  
  
"I don't," Sören said, and once again racked his brain for what was playing - he didn't usually pay attention, with all the hours he worked. Then he remembered Ben had been going on and on about wanting to see _Jurassic World_ , since he was a fiend for dinosaurs. He could at least discuss it with Ben if he'd seen it too, though Sören hadn't seen anything in the franchise since the original _Jurassic Park_ and that was ages ago. "Um... _Jurassic World_? Maybe not the most romantic choice -"  
  
"No, that's fine."  
  
"Since I picked the movie, I'll let you choose where we're going to dinner."  
  
"All right. Um... what time on Saturday?"  
  
"I work early Saturday morning but I'll be home by four. Seven PM gives me enough time to catch a nap and freshen up before we go."  
  
"Perfect. I'll reserve something for us somewhere and I'll see you on Saturday night."  
  
"OK, I'm looking forward to it."  
  
"Me too." And then Anthony said, "I've missed you, Sören. I've missed your company, I've missed spending time with you."  
  
"I've missed you too, Anthony." Tears misted in Sören's eyes, a tight lump in his throat. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too. Good night."  
  
Sören ended the call before he could break down sobbing. He took a few deep breaths to pull himself together, not wanting to cry out here on the sidewalk like this.  
  
Karen and Nicholas grabbed Sören and pulled him into a group hug.  
  
Nicholas and Sören walked Karen to her flat a few minutes later and she and Sören lingered while Nicholas kept a respectful distance. "You sure you don't mind about Saturday?" Sören cocked his head to one side.  
  
"Sören Sigurðsson, for the last time, I wouldn't have offered if I minded. We'll make up the time." Karen preened. "If you feel really guilty about it, you can give me an extra orgasm when we take a rain check."  
  
Sören laughed. "Twist my arm, why don't you."  
  
"I'll twist something."  
  
Sören laughed harder, then he grabbed her and kissed her. "I love you, _elskan_. And thank you for being so understanding."  
  
Karen stroked his cheek. "I want the full report."  
  
"The full report?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
Karen narrowed her eyes. "You know what I mean, pervert." And then she turned red and bit her lower lip, and Sören got the sense she might in fact enjoy "the full full report", but he wasn't going to tease her about that just yet.  
  
But as Sören and Nicholas headed back to their own flat, Nicholas got serious again, and Sören braced himself. Nicholas put an arm around Sören's waist, as if to offer some assurance.  
  
"I do have a request," Nicholas said.  
  
"OK."  
  
"I know that we agreed you could have two nights staying over with other partners, but..." Nicholas exhaled. "I would prefer that this Saturday night, you go on your date and come home, not spend the night, at least this time. This is going to take some getting used to for me, and I apologize for asking, but -"  
  
"No, I get it," Sören said, patting him. He was a little disappointed, but he also wanted to respect Nicholas's feelings and that was more important to him. Truth be told, Sören was also worried about sleeping with Anthony again on the first date, even as his mind was racing with lustful thoughts of he and Anthony re-discovering the magic they had sexually. He was giving Anthony a second chance, but falling back in bed on the second first date felt like rushing things. "It was one thing for me to already be involved with Karen and Geir when we got together, and another thing for Craig to just be a thing on the side. It's another thing entirely for me to rekindle a relationship with someone I almost married, so I know you're going to need some time to... adjust."  
  
"Yes." Nicholas nodded. "It's not that I will forbid you from ever spending the night with him, but this soon -"  
  
"It's OK." Sören kissed Nicholas's cheek. "I'll let Anthony know that I have to go home when we're all set on Saturday night."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
And then Sören paused in his tracks and took Nicholas into his arms. "Don't ever doubt how I feel about you. You are my home, my center." Sören gave him a tender little kiss. "I love you."  
  
Nicholas stroked Sören's face, pet his curls, kissed the top of his head as he snuggled Sören close. "I know."


	5. Starting Over

Anthony swallowed hard as the cab turned onto the street and the building where Sören lived with Nicholas came closer and closer. He felt like an awkward teenager all over again, even more shy and nervous than he had on his first date with Sören all the way back in 2011... what felt like ages ago now.  
  
Despite the mugginess of the July evening, he was wearing the same outfit that he'd worn when he'd had his first date with Sören four years ago - grey blazer, white shirt, black jeans, pointy black boots. He was a little thinner than he'd been back then, having lost weight in post-breakup depression and then again after the accident, but the clothes still fit without hanging awkwardly. He wondered if Sören would remember the outfit, but then, Sören always had a good eye for detail, both as a surgeon and an artist. He knew Sören would definitely remember the restaurant - he'd made reservations for the same fusion place in Bromley where they'd had their first date.  
  
Anthony's hand tightened around the rose he was carrying - a single long-stemmed red rose, with baby's breath. He'd thought about a full bouquet of a dozen roses but he didn't want to be too over-the-top, so it was just the one. Sören had asked him to come upstairs to the flat when he arrived, or Anthony would have held off on the flowers, not wanting Sören to have to carry them around all evening.  
  
He was a bit reluctant to see that flat - though he was trying to be OK with the fact that Sören had other partners, he nonetheless felt a bitter sting that Sören was nesting with another man, especially one so attractive, and who had some things Anthony did not: cooking ability, had been an educator at Oxford when Anthony had to settle for Cambridge. Anthony knew that comparisons weren't fair, and he didn't want to automatically hate Sören's partner, he felt like he was being unreasonable in his jealousy. Nonetheless, as the cab pulled over in front of the building he found himself wincing as if in pain.  
  
 _Stop it. He's back in your life again. You're going on a_ date. _That's what matters._  
  
"We're here," the cab driver said.  
  
"All right. And you'll wait while I run up?"  
  
The cab driver nodded.  
  
Of course, Anthony wasn't running - he cursed under his breath as he climbed out of the cab, struggling awkwardly with his cane. Getting in and out of cars was still an ordeal for him, though one he was willing to endure for Sören. He managed to get out with the rose intact, and then leaned on his cane as he walked to the door of the building. Then he walked to the lift. As soon as he stepped in the lift his heart began racing, giddy and nervous all at once, knowing in just a few minutes he'd see Sören. The man he loved. The man he'd been aching for, the last two years. He'd lost hope of ever reuniting with him and now that hope had been returned, and he felt full to the brim with joy, already getting teared up as the lift began its ascent.  
  
Anthony could barely breathe as the lift doors opened, and there was the door to Sören's flat. His stomach was doing somersaults as he limped on to the door, and at last his breath came in a sharp exhale as he knocked.  
  
Sören opened the door, a smile lighting up his face that made Anthony's heart soar. "Hi," Sören said softly, sounding a bit shy.  
  
"Hi." Anthony looked him up and down. "You look great."  
  
And then Anthony realized - Sören, too, was wearing the same outfit he'd worn on their first date in 2011, a black ruffly poet's shirt and black leather pants. He was even wearing the same earrings, two pairs of small silver hoops. The only thing different was that Sören's hair was longer, hanging down to his shoulders. Anthony resisted the urge to touch those beautiful black curls.  
  
"So do you." Sören's eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile broader. "Wow, we're both wearing the same outfit we wore on our first date."  
  
 _He remembers._ Anthony blinked back tears. Of course Sören would remember, but he was still touched anyway. Anthony gave a little nervous clear of the throat and with his free hand, he held out the rose. "For you."  
  
"Oh!" Sören's eyes widened as he took the rose and sniffed it, closing his eyes with a look of pleasure on his face at the fragrance. Their eyes met then and Sören said, "Let me go put this in a vase. Come in?"  
  
Anthony was even more nervous about coming in, but he didn't want to be rude by just standing there. He stepped into the flat, hoping he wouldn't encounter Nicholas...  
  
...but of course there he was, sitting on the couch, reading a book. "Er, hello," Anthony said.  
  
"Good evening," Nicholas said mildly, not looking up from his book, but then he did put in a bookmark and looked at Anthony, then at Sören. Anthony's face was on fire, feeling like he was under scrutiny. He watched as Sören made his way into the kitchen - their flat had an open plan kitchen and living room - and Sören retrieved a single vase from a cupboard, put the rose inside, and got Sprite from the fridge, pouring Sprite into the vase.  
  
As Sören took care of the rose, Anthony took a quick look around, taking in what he could from where he stood in the living room, leaning on his cane. Nicholas and Sören's flat had a fair amount of vintage wooden furniture, a lighter brown than the dark brownish-grey of the floorboards. There were grey and cream armchairs and couches, done up with throws and pillows in sea green and blues, smaller blue rugs to match. There was a grandfather clock ticking beside a woodstove; the woodstove wasn't going on a muggy night in July. The kitchen and living room were both full of ferns and potted palms, and it seemed everywhere Anthony looked there were bookshelves full of books, even in the kitchen. _He reads,_ Anthony realized, glancing over at Nicholas, but then, it wasn't surprising that a Classics professor would - or that Sören would be attracted to someone well-read. Sören had a type, it seemed.  
  
The place was shabby chic but in a genuine, rather than hipster, kind of way. It wasn't posh like his place in Kingston had been, but it felt more like a home. Anthony's eyes fixed on a cat tree by a window, before looking over at Sören again, with his rose, smiling as he set the vase down on the kitchen counter. Anthony took a few steps into the kitchen, feeling like he shouldn't just stand there like an idiot.  
  
"Do you want something to drink before we leave?" Sören asked, before he capped the Sprite.  
  
Anthony shook his head. "I have a cab waiting downstairs -"  
  
Just then an adorable little cat came over, black with white tuxedo markings and white socks. Big, curious orange eyes, a notched ear and a scar on his pink nose. The cat rubbed against Anthony's legs with a "Prrrowwwrrr?"  
  
"That's Toby," Sören said.  
  
" _His name is Tobias_ ," Nicholas muttered, going back to his book.  
  
Sören chuckled. "Nick rescued him years ago. He's a good boy, aren't you?" Sören stooped down to pet the cat. Anthony wanted to stoop, but it was a bit more difficult for him with the balance issues he already had. Tobias looked up at him as if to protest _Why aren't you petting me?_  
  
Sören seemed to intuitively understand Anthony couldn't quite reach, so Sören scooped up the cat, and with Tobias draped on his shoulder, Sören came closer and Anthony gave the cat a few pets, feeling wistful for a cat of his own. Yet another thing to envy about Nicholas Decaux, another thing to envy about Sören nesting with another man. "Hello," Anthony said, skritching the cat's chin. "Aren't you a sweetheart. Yes, you're a good boy." Tobias began to purr and nuzzled Anthony's hand. Anthony felt himself smiling, that warm fuzzy feeling he got around affectionate cats. He scratched the cat behind the ears and Tobias purred even louder.  
  
"He likes you," Sören said.  
  
Then Sören walked over to Nicholas, with a gesture that Anthony should follow. Sören deposited the cat onto the couch, who walked over and climbed onto Nicholas's lap. Nicholas chuckled, petting the cat. Sören opened up a hollow book on the coffee table and took out a lint brush, and brushed Tobias's hair off his shirt; as he put the lint brush back in the hollow book, he leaned in and gave Nicholas a kiss, and Anthony was torn between thinking they looked very hot together, and once again feeling that sting of envy. "OK, _elskan_ , I'll be back later."  
  
"Have fun," Nicholas said, again in a very mild tone of voice, as if none of this bothered him, though as Sören took Anthony's hand and led him to the door, Anthony felt like he was being watched, and sure enough when he looked over his shoulder he saw Nicholas giving him a stern look as if to say _you had better behave yourself, young man_.  
  
Anthony finally noticed the sign on the door when they exited, _MEA NAVIS VOLITANS ANGUILLIS ABUNDAT_. Anthony laughed, tickled. Then he quickly sobered, not wanting to like Sören's partner.  
  
"Oh, you can read the sign?" Sören asked.  
  
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "I took Latin in school. And there are many Latin terms in law -"  
  
"OK, fair," Sören said. "That was a stupid question."  
  
"No, not really." Anthony kissed his cheek. "I don't think I ever mentioned to you that I'd taken Latin in public school, just linguistics at Cambridge."  
  
"I guess even after all these years, we're still learning things about each other." Their eyes met.  
  
Anthony smiled. "I guess so. Makes it interesting." And of course, his mind went straight to the gutter, wondering if Sören's appetites were the same, if he had any new kinks to explore.  
  
Sören looked a little ill at ease as they approached the lift, and Anthony worried then that Sören was nervous about the date, maybe even uncomfortable or having second thoughts. But when the lift doors closed and Sören let out a sharp exhale and tensed up, cringing, Anthony realized it wasn't that, confirmed when Sören made a little high-pitched noise of distress as the lift began to move. They'd been in an elevator a scant few times over their nearly two years together, but Anthony remembered that those few times Sören had anxiety. And he knew Sören was claustrophobic, but he knew Sören had been abused as a child and remembered a story of how his aunt Katrín had put him in a closet every so often for "acting up". It dawned on Anthony now why Sören had wanted him to come up rather than meeting him outside, even though it would have been easier than Anthony getting in and out of the cab - Sören probably didn't want to ride in the lift by himself.  
  
"Oh, love." Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. "It's OK."  
  
"I'm sorry." Sören cringed again. "I know I'm a big baby. I didn't want to tell you over the phone that I need help in the lift... I didn't think my anxiety would be this bad, either, but I guess I'm a bundle of nerves today -"  
  
Anthony stroked Sören's cheek, feeling that ache of sympathy... as well as anger at what had caused his claustrophobia in the first place. "I don't judge you." He came closer, and without thinking about it, he fell back on the kinky game they had played when they were together. "Little brother's looking out for big brother now."  
  
Sören threw his arms around Anthony and kissed him passionately. Anthony moaned into the kiss, melting... feeling his cock stir in his jeans. He kissed Sören back with all the fire pent up in him over the last two years, tongues teasing, playing, all the memories of the times they'd been inside each other, the promise that their bodies would join again. With his free hand Anthony held Sören's face, and then his fingers traced down Sören's sensitive throat, slid over his chest down his stomach, stopping before they could go lower. Now Sören was trembling for a reason other than fear, and they kissed again and again, completely lost in the kiss as the lift stopped and the doors chimed.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing hard, and now it was Anthony to lead Sören out of the lift. He gave a nervous little chuckle and Sören giggled, his cheeks flushed. Sören shook his head. "We have to try to behave," Sören said. "No hanky-panky on the first date this time."  
  
Sören had already given him the heads up about that earlier in the week. While Anthony was horny for him and a little disappointed, he also logically understood that after what had happened, he couldn't expect to spend the night with him that first date. Anthony nodded and put an arm around Sören's waist, both to steady himself and to give Sören a reassuring little squeeze. "I know. Though you're difficult to resist."  
  
"You are too." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
Anthony bit back a groan; it didn't help when Sören did that.  
  
The cab was thankfully still waiting there at the curb, though the cab driver looked a little irritated when they approached, and Anthony wondered if it was because he was kept waiting longer than expected, or it was clear they were two men on a date, or both. Anthony took a deep breath as he climbed into the back seat of the cab, wishing he had a private driver. He hadn't wanted to ask his mum to chauffeur them, even though she'd offered.  
  
But even more than how the cab driver felt, Anthony was nervous about the ungraceful clambering into the cab, and how it would look to Sören. Sören seemed completely unperturbed, giving Anthony a little kiss once he was in the back seat too; Anthony felt a wave of relief.  
  
"Where to?" the cab driver asked, keeping his tone neutral even as the rest of him registered annoyance.  
  
Anthony gave the address. Sören's eyes widened and he turned to Anthony. "That's where we had our first date."  
  
"Yes," Anthony said. "I know Bromley's a ways out, but -"  
  
Sören kissed him harder. When Sören kissed him like that, it didn't even matter what the cab driver, or anyone, thought. Nothing else existed.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Once the cab pulled up to the restaurant, Sören helped Anthony out of the cab and pulled him into a kiss, making Anthony's head spin on the way in. The restaurant hadn't changed much since their first visit in 2011, apart from adding some new things on the menu. Anthony went with the same pad thai quinoa bowl that he'd enjoyed, while Sören went with bulgogi burritos, a fusion of Mexican and Korean cuisine.  
  
Sören didn't want to talk about work, and Anthony hadn't worked since his accident, so they talked about other things instead, mostly politics and world news. They both complained about David Cameron and expressed concern over Donald Trump's US presidential campaign, and remarked on ISIL attacks and the unfortunate surge of Islamophobia happening in the UK in their wake. Sören didn't bring up more personal matters, like his other relationships and especially not Nicholas, and Anthony had a feeling that was deliberate, probably not wanting to make him uncomfortable.  
  
While the conversation was more impersonal and about issues, it was still warm, where Anthony felt like he was chatting with an old friend. Except a bit more than a friend - there was still that spark between them, with their gaze locking across the table, little touches. It was also a reminder that they shared values, which Anthony thought was important; he'd been annoyed by the conservative-leaning politics of the crowd he used to run with, and the expectation that with his privileged background, he'd share them. That reminder of shared values was also a reminder that they both had a strong sense of purpose, both of them fighting to save lives and make a difference in the world in their own respective ways. Anthony felt a twinge, feeling a bit like a failure since he wasn't ready to return to Lincoln's Inn just yet.  
  
As they waited for their check, Sören said, "I've been here five years. I'm applying for citizenship this month."  
  
"Oh!" Anthony hadn't realized it had been that long, though of course he knew Sören had come to the UK in 2010. "Congratulations."  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören smiled into his drink. "It still feels surreal that it's been five years already."  
  
"Yeah, it does." Anthony cocked his head to one side. "Will you still be working at the National? Or will you be going private, since you don't need them to sponsor your visa anymore?" He quickly added, "I'm just curious, I'm not judging you either way." His friends _had_ judged Sören for not going private, which had rankled him, and he wished so much he had ditched those "friends" when they began to disrespect his partner.  
  
"I'm still going to work for the NHS," Sören said. "I have a strong chance of making consultant at the National in a couple of years."  
  
"That's good," Anthony said, and immediately felt like an idiot. _That's good_ sounded trite, but he was impressed enough that he couldn't find better words.  
  
Sören seemed to understand, nodding and smiling. Then his expression sobered. "When do you think you're going back to work? I'm just curious, myself."  
  
"I don't know." Anthony gave a nervous little laugh and a half-shrug. "Probably in a few more months, when I'm not so worn out climbing steps." _When I'm not so bloody self-conscious about people seeing me with my cane. I don't need Crown Prosecution weaponizing my disability._ But he didn't speak those thoughts aloud. And that, too, gave him a twinge, knowing Sören wanted him to be honest about his problems, didn't want him to do the "stiff upper lip" thing in pride. Nonetheless, he felt self-conscious about even admitting he was self-conscious.  
  
"It's good that you'll be getting out more," Sören said, taking his hand across the table. "Give you a bit of a workout."  
  
Anthony's mind immediately went in the gutter again. He definitely wanted Sören to give him a bit of a workout. Sören seemed to know exactly how that sounded, that naughty look in his eye, a slight smirk as he finished his drink.  
  
It was going to be a long night, having to behave himself.  
  
Unlike their first date in 2011, where they had gone straight from the restaurant to Anthony's flat in Kingston, they were going to see _Jurassic World_ at the cinema at Sören's request. Anthony had bought two tickets online at a cinema in Bromley, which was a short cab ride. Once again Sören helped him out of the cab and kissed him once he was out. As it was a Saturday night, there was a bit of a queue outside the cinema, and standing in place was harder for Anthony than walking, but Sören had an arm around him and leaning on Sören felt cozy and incredibly right. They ended up kissing right there in the line, interrupted by the clerk when it was their turn.  
  
As the movie had been out for a few weeks already it wasn't as crowded as Anthony had feared, but there were still a number of moviegoers, including kids, which helped reinforce the need to behave tonight. Sören and Anthony found a spot in the middle of the theatre and Anthony sat close to the aisle. They split a big container of popcorn, which Sören had wanted, and Sören had also gotten a packet of peanut butter cups. He kissed Anthony with one in his mouth during the previews, and Anthony resisted the urge to grab Sören's cock.  
  
Fortunately, the movie was fairly distracting. Anthony was a kid when the original _Jurassic Park_ had come out, and he'd been young enough to be impressed by a dinosaur movie, but he felt a little sheepish about going to this one, even though he knew being "too old" for fun things was societal conditioning and there were plenty of things he was "too old" for that he still enjoyed, like video games and _Harry Potter_.  
  
"I should take notes," Sören whispered. "Ben's gonna grill me later."  
  
"Ben?"  
  
"Karen's brother. He's a little younger than I am. And he's gay."  
  
"He's not -"  
  
Sören almost spat his soda. " _No_ , Anthony, Ben and I are not _like that._ Admittedly, his partner Pierre is really hot, and they're not exclusive, Pierre sometimes hooks up with Geir, one of my boyfriends. But I already have my hands full. Anyway, Ben and I are just friends. And he's obsessed with dinosaurs. He really wants to talk to me about the movie."  
  
Anthony remembered when he and Sören were together, and Sören had no social life of which to speak of, apart from him. He'd tried to get Sören to be "part of the squad" with his friends, but they had been a bad fit, and Anthony found out too late that he, too, was also a bad fit for that crowd, ghosted after his accident, and distance had made him see the light about how they really were. It felt strange that now the tables were turned - Sören had friends and he did not. And while he was intensely lonely, and Sören mentioning a friend was a painful reminder of his own loneliness, he was nonetheless happy that Sören finally had a friend, or friends, as it were.  
  
Sören laughed as other people in the theatre jumped and gasped at the scary moments in the movie, and then Sören himself ended up getting startled, letting out a high-pitched "meep" and spilling popcorn all over himself. Anthony tried not to laugh and failed, and Sören gave him a mock stern look but laughed too. Sören scooped up some of the popcorn that had fallen onto his lap and stuck it in Anthony's mouth, and Anthony, feeling cheeky, sucked the butter and salt off of Sören's fingers once he'd eaten the popcorn. Heat flared in Sören's eyes, and Anthony's cock stirred again.  
  
But they had to behave. And Anthony didn't want Sören to miss too much of the movie. They cuddled until the movie was done, and they stayed through the credits, giving other people a chance to clear out, so Anthony wouldn't feel like he was holding up the queue out of the theatre by moving more slowly. Anthony and Sören stole a few more kisses when it was just them and the credits.  
  
As they waited for their cab, Sören played one of the video games in the arcade while Anthony watched for the cab, but kept glancing over at Sören, getting all fluttery at Sören enjoying himself. He also felt wistful for the times when they used to play games together like Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario Bros. It wasn't just that he had lost his partner, but he'd lost his best friend, someone he could have fun with, which was so necessary when his job got too serious. He'd missed Sören so much.  
  
While Anthony wanted to kiss Sören again, he didn't want the cab driver to have a negative reaction - even though it was a different one than before; Anthony never knew how people would react to two men being openly affectionate, even in 2015 - so on the ride out of Bromley they kept it to just cuddling, holding hands... but every nerve in Anthony's body was screaming to touch Sören, to kiss him.  
  
When the cab arrived at Sören's building, Anthony had the driver wait; once again Sören helped him out of the cab. Sören showed no sign of being bothered by Anthony's cane and needing a little extra help with mobility, and Anthony was relieved and grateful.  
  
He, in turn, didn't mind walking Sören into the building and riding with him in the lift. To distract Sören from the claustrophobia he finally gave Sören that deep, passionate kiss he'd wanted to give him in the cab. "I missed you so much," Anthony whispered, before kissing Sören again, even more fiercely. Sören's arms tightened around Anthony and Anthony found himself pushing Sören up against the wall of the lift, instinctively thrusting his hips out, feeling Sören's hard bulge pressed up on his own. Sören moaned, and gave a little cry as Anthony began to kiss along his jaw, nuzzled his beard, started kissing his neck. The lift chimed, coming to a stop just as Anthony licked Sören's throat.  
  
They pulled themselves out of the lift and paused in front of the door to Sören and Nicholas's flat. They lingered, not wanting to part just yet.  
  
Finally Sören said, "I had fun."  
  
"I enjoyed myself too," Anthony said.  
  
"We should do this again." Sören raised an eyebrow. "I have next Thursday evening off, if you'd like to get together?"  
  
"I would," Anthony said. He was both elated that Sören wanted another date, and a bit disappointed that he had to wait until Thursday, which felt like years away, not days. He realized of course that Sören had a crazy schedule, and now he was sharing Sören with other partners, so he had to be grateful to see Sören even once a week, never mind more frequently. He knew that going into this, and he would take what he could get. But he still felt an ache.  
  
Sören seemed to notice, and pulled Anthony into a tight hug, patting him, chuckling. "Oh, Anthony. It'll go by fast."  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony said, resting his head on Sören's shoulder. "I don't want to be too needy -"  
  
Sören silenced him with a kiss. And then they were kissing again, deep, hungry kisses that felt like sex even though they were both fully clothed. Anthony's free hand played with Sören's hair, ran over Sören's chest, and his thumb brushed a pierced nipple through the fabric, a promise of pleasure when they finally could make love again. Sören moaned and Anthony shivered - he loved the sound of that moan - and Anthony sucked on Sören's lower lip, making Sören moan again.  
  
"We better, ah." Sören pulled back a little, breathing harder, cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide. Anthony looked down at the erection in Sören's pants and couldn't help smirking. "Yeah." Sören's eyes narrowed and he gave Anthony a playful swat. "Not tonight."  
  
"I know," Anthony said, and that came out a bit defensively, and then he said, more softly, "I know."  
  
Sören nodded. "You also need to give me your test results."  
  
Anthony nodded. He felt really self-conscious again, especially right outside the door where he wondered if Nicholas was eavesdropping and listening to everything - he certainly would in the same position. "I see my doctor on Tuesday, and I'm picking up, ah. The Truvada prescription."  
  
"Good." Sören nodded again.  
  
They kept nodding at each other, awkwardly, and then Anthony cleared his throat and said, "I, ah, shouldn't keep the cab driver waiting. What time on Thursday?"  
  
"Seven again? Maybe something a little closer to home this time? Your turf or mine, I mean."  
  
Anthony thought, and then he said, "Greenleaf? It's a bookstore close to where my parents live." He almost said _where I live_ , but he still felt like he was a guest at his parents' house. "And they've got coffee, and a little cafe." He thought about inviting Sören over to dinner at his parents', but he felt that would be a bit too soon, much as Elaine was eager to see him again.  
  
"That sounds lovely. I'll take a cab to your place this time, I'll have Nick do the lift with me."  
  
"All right." Anthony stroked Sören's cheek. "I'm looking forward to it."  
  
"Me too. I like books." Then Sören facepalmed. "Obviously you know that. God, I'm an idiot." Sören's voice dropped in an imitation of Nicholas's basso. "As you know..."  
  
"It's OK, Sören. I feel like an idiot too." Anthony bit his lower lip. "I feel like I can't think straight around you."  
  
"Anthony, let's be real, nothing about you is straight."  
  
Anthony shook with full-bodied laughter - Sören's jokes and banter were one of the things he missed most about him, and it felt so good to have that back in his life. Sören's face lit up, pleased that Anthony laughed at his joke, and then Sören crushed Anthony to him in another kiss, hot, hungry kisses again and again, like their lives depended on it.  
  
Then Sören gave Anthony a little shove. "You better get your cab, and, ah... I need to not... ah." Sören glanced down at his tented trousers.  
  
Anthony chuckled. He blew Sören a kiss on his way to the lift. "Good night, my love."  
  
"Good night, _elskan._ "  
  
Anthony felt his eyes misting on the lift down. He'd missed being called _elskan_ and other Icelandic terms of endearment too. He'd even missed Sören going into "drunk Viking mode", when Sören got so angry or upset he lost his ability to speak English. Though Sören's accent was milder from having lived in London for five years, it was still beautiful; Anthony never got tired of hearing Sören's voice.  
  
Or kissing those sweet, full lips, or feeling Sören's willowy body against his. His erection throbbed painfully on the way back home. His parents were already in bed when he arrived, which he was relieved by - while he knew Elaine would ask him about the date tomorrow, he just wanted to take care of business right now. He brushed his teeth and changed as quickly as he could, and once he got under the covers he stroked himself fast and furiously, fantasizing about tying Sören's wrists to the bed, kissing and licking him all over, sucking Sören to orgasm, then untying Sören and taking him, feeling Sören's hands on him, Sören's nails digging into him as he pounded away. The thought of Sören coming all over him, like he'd done countless times in the past, set him off, not able to keep from crying out " _Sören_ ," as he let go, shooting over his hand and bare chest and stomach.  
  
With memories of holding Sören in the afterglow, and knowing it would be a reality soon enough, there was a little smile on his face as he slipped into sleep.  
  
  
_  
  
  
He is in the body not his own again, with long pale blond hair that seems more gold or more silver in the play of light and shadow. Sören has a flood of long, straight black hair to his knees, piercing grey eyes, a somewhat different face but it is still _him_ , the soul-deep burning. They are both wearing flower crowns. Sören slips a silver ring onto his finger, two serpents with emerald eyes, bearing a golden wreath. Then they clasp hands and their wrists are bound together with a length of gold-and-silver rope.  
  
 _With this ring I bind thee, I claim thee, that no matter where thou goest, or for however long, thou wilt return to me, for for thy heart is mine as my heart is thine, our love ties us together as surely as the circle is never broken._  
  
The glorious eternal spring of the garden fades into winter, a frozen wasteland, snow and hail.  
  
"You must go back," Sören says, stern, unyielding. He pushes Anthony away. "You must renounce me. You must tell them you were wrong."  
  
"No, I will not deny you, _I will not_ -"  
  
"You will, or your children's blood will be on your hands... and mine."  
  
Anthony takes a deep breath, and speaks the truth of his insecurity. "You just want to get rid of me," Anthony says. "You never have time for me anymore -"  
  
"We're in the middle of a war, in case you haven't been able to tell."  
  
Anthony shakes his head. "You still have time for our brother." And then he sneers. "That's it, isn't it? You don't want me anymore. You just want him."  
  
There is a long pause. Then at last Sören looks into his eyes and says, "You're right."  
  
He walks away, he sails away, with their other-brother's wife and his own wife, who he does not love, who he has not lain with, though they are friends - Sören had threesomes with them, helped him spill his seed to conceive children. And when he comes back to their homeland he lives a loveless life; the days all blend into each other, and though he tries to find a sense of purpose in leading what is left of their people, it still hurts.  
  
The deepest cut of all is when he sleeps and has a nightmare - a vision of Sören riding off to war, ambushed by a pack of horrible fire-demons that lash at him with whips. Sören dies in his son's arms, going up in flames. Anthony wakes with a gasp, next to the wife, who as a friend reaches out to him to embrace him. But it feels almost as bad as the nightmare itself, this waking reality, where he is alone. He had held out the smallest glimmer of hope that Sören would come back, and now he is gone, he felt Sören _die_ , and he lives, but it is not a life, really.  
  
Anthony begins to weep, feeling like his very soul is breaking with every tear.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony woke up crying in the middle of the night, and when he looked at the clock and saw it was after three in the morning and realized he'd woken himself up crying - then remembered the dream, the nightmare - he cried even harder. And kept crying, feeling ashamed of crying.  
  
He heard footsteps, and then a gentle knock at the door. "Anthony?" came Elaine's voice. "Anthony, are you all right?"  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you -"  
  
The door opened a crack. "Are you decent? May I come in?"  
  
Anthony just nodded in the blue glow of the nightlight. Elaine walked in, wearing a nightgown, hair mussed, looking tired. She took a seat across from Anthony's bed. "What happened?" Elaine's eyes widened with concern. "Did your date with Sören go OK -"  
  
"It was fine, Mum." Anthony exhaled sharply. "It was good." _Fine_ sounded like the _everything's fine_ denial that both he and Sören had been too fond of using. "I just... had a bad dream."  
  
"I see." Elaine folded her hands. "What about? If you're OK with talking about it, but sometimes talking about these things helps..."  
  
"I dreamt Sören died."  
  
"Oh." Elaine pursed her lips.  
  
Anthony knew that wasn't the answer his mother had been expecting, and there was a long pause, as if she were trying to figure out the right thing to say to that. Finally Elaine said, "Well, that probably means you're afraid of losing him again."  
  
"No shit." Then Anthony remembered he was talking to his mother. "Sorry, Mum."  
  
Elaine chuckled. "It's all right, dear. I know you're shaken up. Do you want some warm milk? Like when you were a boy and had nightmares, or couldn't sleep?"  
  
Anthony felt even more self-conscious but he wasn't going to say no. A few minutes later Elaine returned with warm sugared milk and when he was finished, she tucked him in and patted his head. "Get some rest, dear."  
  
His mother's comfort had been nice - even at age thirty-five, part of him still needed that, much as he hated being a "mummy's boy" sometimes - but he still felt badly shaken by the dream. What Elaine didn't know - what she _couldn't_ know - is that he was having _those_ dreams again. When he and Sören were together they had both had recurring dreams that felt like another time, another life, where he had long blond hair and Sören had long black hair, and they were brothers, who were also lovers, and shared their other brother. Those dreams had been gone for awhile, since Sören was gone from his life. But now they were back. Anthony didn't want to believe in things like past lives, or afterlives, or Higher Powers, or any of that. He thought religion contributed to societal ills rather than fixed them. And yet, it was harder for him to shake that it was just nothing, just a coincidence they were both dreaming it...  
  
...and this had felt more than just a dream, like those dreams always did, but this one most of all. This felt like something _more._ Like he'd lost Sören a long time ago and this was why they were here, all over again, to get it right this time.  
  
Yet he knew from the experience of 2013 that it was easier said than done. Even though he had no plans to cheat on Sören, he knew that wasn't the only thing that could destroy a relationship. As Sören himself had pointed out, the cheating was more a symptom of what was wrong, rather than a cause.  
  
And all the good intentions in the world couldn't barricade the road to hell; sometimes they paved it.  
  
Underneath the warm blankets, Anthony shivered.


	6. Snuggling Up

Sören was combing his hair, fluffing his curls for his date with Anthony when Nicholas walked into the bathroom. Sören smiled at him in the mirror, and his smile got bigger as Nicholas came closer. Nicholas put his hands on Sören's shoulders and pulled Sören's back against his chest, his hands sliding down so he could wrap his arms around Sören, and Nicholas rocked him and gave him a little squeeze.  
  
"You look lovely, sweetheart," Nicholas husked, tilting Sören's face to kiss his cheek.  
  
Sören rubbed noses with him. " _Takk._ " Sören bit his lip and looked back into the mirror. After he got home from work and changed out of his scrubs, he'd had a nap and then a shower, and then spent a bit of time trying to decide on what outfit to wear. Even though Anthony had seen him dressed down before, and a date at a bookstore-cum-cafe wasn't the fanciest occasion, Sören still felt the need to impress, while also not wanting to be too formal. He'd finally chosen a white ruffly poet's shirt, a black vest, and black jeans.  
  
"And you smell good, too." Nicholas's nose twitched.  
  
Sören laughed softly. He had on a few dabs of Kyoto by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, a blend of cherry blossoms and anise that still managed to smell masculine on him, and decidedly sexual in the dry-down. Nicholas had smelled it on him before, but not in awhile. Sören felt a twinge of guilt that Nicholas hadn't seen him dressed up in awhile either - while they were both homebodies, Sören still felt like they should probably go on a date in the near future, to compensate for Sören going on dates with Anthony.  
  
Before he could open his mouth to make the suggestion, Nicholas tilted Sören's face towards his again, looking him in the eye, and Sören watched Nicholas take a deep breath. "Sören, I need to talk to you about something."  
  
Sören felt a flash of panic. Nicholas kissed the tip of his nose, knowing how he worried, a pre-emptive affectionate gesture to reassure Sören he wasn't angry or upset with him, Sören wasn't in any kind of trouble. But Sören still felt anxiety in the context of him getting ready to go on a date with Anthony, and Nicholas needing to have "a talk" before that. The pit of Sören's stomach rose, hoping Nicholas wasn't going to ask him to cancel the date, or nip the relationship in the bud entirely.  
  
Sören turned around to face him, leaning against the sink. "What about?"  
  
Nicholas made a "follow me" gesture, and Sören followed down the hall to the bedroom they shared. Tobias was curled up on the bed, and Nicholas took a seat on the edge of the bed next to the cat, while Sören sat in a rocking chair across from the bed. Tobias woke up after Nicholas got on the bed and yawned and stretched, then came over to Nicholas, purring, giving headbutts. Nicholas gave the cat a few pats and strokes, looking as if he were collecting his thoughts. Sören waited, the anxiety rising.  
  
Finally Nicholas said, "As you know, you're going on your date with Anthony shortly."  
  
"Oh god," Sören muttered, before he could stop himself. He knew this was going to be about Anthony. He braced himself.  
  
Nicholas winced, also seeming to know Sören was afraid he would ask Sören to cancel the date or the relationship entirely. He shook his head. "Now, Sören, please don't jump to conclusions with what I'm about to ask."  
  
Sören exhaled sharply. He gave Nicholas a "go ahead" gesture.  
  
Nicholas went on. "I don't know if your original plans included spending the night with him, and I'm aware that when our relationship began I was willing to allot you two nights away from home, to spend with other partners as you see fit. But I also feel it is better in the interest of open, honest communication to tell you that I'm not yet comfortable with you..." Nicholas made a vague hand gesture. "Resuming intimacy with him. So if you wouldn't mind terribly, I'd appreciate it if you came back home this evening."  
  
That wasn't great, but it also wasn't the same as canceling the date or asking Sören to stop seeing him, and Sören would rather Nicholas communicate any discomfort rather than stewing in silent resentment. Sören also knew that feelings didn't work on an on/off switch and Nicholas was trying to be as OK as he could with this arrangement; it was one thing for Sören to spend time with Geir, Karen, or Craig, another thing entirely for Sören to spend time with his ex-now-not-ex, who he'd almost married. Though he'd been doing his best to give Nicholas assurances that nesting with him was what he wanted, and he wasn't going to leave Nicholas for Anthony, he knew it was still going to take time.  
  
"OK," Sören said simply.  
  
Nicholas let out a little sigh of what seemed like relief. He nodded. "Thank you for understanding."  
  
"Well, hopefully Anthony will understand too." Sören pursed his lips. "Going forward in the future, I'd appreciate you telling me something like this at least a day or two before the date, rather than me springing it on him the night of."  
  
"I'm sorry," Nicholas said. "I was trying to be OK with the idea, but..."  
  
Sören sighed and nodded. And he knew that, too, was part of the complexity of feelings.  
  
"I'm not saying you can't... ever... resume intimacy with him," Nicholas said. "But I think I'm going to need at least a couple more weeks to... get adjusted to the concept. I'm sorry -"  
  
Sören held up a hand. "I know you're trying, I know this is... a lot, and I appreciate that you're even willing to be OK with me seeing him. But yes, I think that while we can probably hold off for right now, it's unfair to ask me to put off intimacy with him indefinitely." Just the thought of making love with Anthony again sent a shiver down Sören's spine. And he had very much been wanting to make love with him tonight; he'd been almost unbearably horny when he got back from his date on Saturday night and he'd practically mauled Nicholas, not that Nicholas had minded. Sören fought back a grin at Nicholas's enthusiastic "YES" when Sören had asked him if he wanted it. Sören had walked funny the next day at work, with the pounding Nicholas gave him. Sören was hoping Nicholas would be ready for more tonight, because he had a feeling the sexual tension with Anthony was going to be even stronger.  
  
"As I said, I'm not expecting you to go without for good. Just a couple more weeks." Nicholas's gaze locked with his. "This was very suddenly sprung on me, and -"  
  
"Jæja, I know. Me too." It still felt surreal to Sören, the way Anthony had come into the cafe at the National and found his way back into his life.  
  
Or their lives, now, as Anthony being a fixture in Sören's life affected Nicholas's life, too.  
  
Nicholas got up, and made a "come here" gesture. Sören got up and went into his arms. They held each other for a moment and already Sören felt the stirrings of arousal, burying his nose in the white chest hair peeking out through the V-neck of Nicholas's black silk pajama top. Nicholas pet Sören's curls and kissed the top of his head, and Sören skritched Nicholas's whiskers, making him smile; the love in those dark chocolate eyes made Sören melt a little.  
  
As if Nicholas could read Sören's mind about the sexual frustration, Nicholas said, "I'll make it up to you when you get back."  
  
"Oh, Nick. You don't owe me sex -"  
  
Nicholas silenced him with a kiss. Sören moaned into the kiss, and again as Nicholas's fingers played over his chest, teasing a pierced nipple through the fabric. When they pulled apart, Nicholas gave him a wicked look, then swatted Sören's ass.  
  
Sören went back to the bathroom to resume fixing his hair. Nicholas closed the toilet seat and sat on it, hands between his knees, watching. A moment later Tobias walked into the bathroom and began to rub against Sören's legs, then Nicholas's, then wandered back to Sören and got up on his hind legs, tapping Sören's knee with a plaintive meow, as if he knew Sören was leaving.  
  
"Oh, Toby." Sören stooped down to pet him. "I won't be gone too long. Just a couple hours, probably."  
  
"Prrrr-ROWWWWRRR." Tobias headbutted Sören's leg, and then he leapt onto Nicholas's lap. Nicholas held the cat, and Sören felt himself melting again, looking at them. He loved that Nicholas was a cat person; he loved how Nicholas was with the cat.  
  
When Sören was done with his hair, he gave himself a once-over, then he called a cab. Nicholas went down with him in the lift, even though Nicholas was in his pajamas, and distracted Sören from his claustrophobia by holding him and petting him. They lingered in the lobby.  
  
"Call me when you're back, and I'll come down to take you up," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören nodded. " _Takk._ " He gave Nicholas a soft, sweet kiss. "You're a good daddy." He skritched Nicholas's whiskers again.  
  
"And you're my special boy." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose, then his brow. He reached around to grope Sören's ass, and squeezed, before giving a playful swat, making Sören giggle. "Have fun."  
  
"You too." Sören raised an eyebrow. "Anything planned?"  
  
"Reading."  
  
"Oh, what are you going to read? Maybe I can find the book at the bookshop, read it too, we can compare notes."  
  
" _Anna Karenina_ , but I am in the middle of the book."  
  
"Oh." Sören's face fell, wishing he had something to share with Nicholas like he'd been able to share _Jurassic World_ with Ben. "Well, maybe I can do a proper read-through one of these days, when I have time. I read it when I was a teenager, but I don't remember everything."  
  
"You should re-read it sometime, yes. But whatever you end up reading there, if you do, I'd still like to discuss it with you, even if it's not something I've read myself. If it interests me, it may give me something new to read."  
  
"OK." Sören gave him a little squeeze. "I love you, Daddy."  
  
"I love you too, sweetheart." Nicholas skritched Sören's beard, and Sören grinned before he kissed Nicholas's fingers.  
  
Then the cab beeped outside. Nicholas poked the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
"I'll see you later," Sören said, and blew a kiss before he headed out.  
  
_  
  
  
  
It felt like ages since Sören had last been to Anthony's parents' house in Blackheath. Sören got a little choked up as the cab began rolling down Anthony's street and the villa came closer into view. Anthony's parents' house had felt so much like their second home. There had been so many beautiful moments there - it was where Anthony tied him up for the first time. It was where Anthony proposed. And Anthony's parents had been wonderful to him, treating him like one of the family. Even Anthony's late grandmother had been warm and welcoming, giving him an expensive genuine Fabergé egg that Sören had left with Anthony when he walked out in October 2013.  
  
In a way, Sören felt that being at Anthony's parents' house would undo him even more than if Anthony still had the flat in Kingston, where they had lived together, and invited him over. Sören steeled himself, not wanting to fall apart.  
  
Anthony was sitting outside on the steps, waiting for him. Sören chuckled - they sort of matched; Anthony was wearing a white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black trousers, and black suspenders. Sören waved as the cab pulled closer. Then he gestured for the cab to wait for a moment. He rolled down the window and asked, "Do you want to get in and ride to Greenleaf?"  
  
Anthony shook his head. "I'd rather walk, if that's all right? It's a short walk, and I need to push myself."  
  
Sören paid the cab driver and got out of the car. He made a beeline for Anthony and helped Anthony to his feet, then gave him a tight hug. Anthony snuggled into his shoulder for a moment and the little sigh he gave went right to Sören's heart, feeling the tears coming on again.  
  
Then the front door flew open and out charged Elaine, wearing a burgundy T-shirt and light blue designer jeans with pearls and bangle bracelets, waving her arms frantically. "Sören! Sören! Hellooooooo!" She loped down the steps.  
  
"Oh _god_ ," Anthony said. He pulled back and leaned on his cane.  
  
"Hi, Elaine," Sören said, getting choked up even more.  
  
Elaine hugged Sören fiercely and kissed both his cheeks. "Sören, I'm so happy to see you. It's so _good_ to see you again. Really." She touched his face, and then rested a hand on his shoulder. "You look radiant. I love your hair! Are you going to keep growing it?"  
  
"Maybe a few inches more, but not longer than that," Sören said, "otherwise it's too much of a pain in the ass to take care of. Er, language, sorry."  
  
Elaine gave a throaty chuckle and hugged him again. She tousled Sören's curls affectionately and then she pinched Anthony's cheek, who turned even more pink, rolling his eyes. "Look at you two." She clasped her hands. "I'm _so glad_ you're back together..."  
  
"Mum," Anthony said.  
  
Sören tried not to laugh. "I'm glad too." He kissed Anthony's other cheek, and Anthony gave a shy, adorable smile that made Sören's stomach flutter, and his cock twinged a little.  
  
"Can I offer you anything to eat or drink? Anthony tells me you're going to Greenleaf and I know there's a cafe there, but I'd be happy to give you some refreshment -"  
  
"Mum. _Mother._ " Anthony narrowed his eyes at Elaine. "The purpose of Sören and I going to Greenleaf is _to go to Greenleaf_. It's very nice of you to want to offer him hospitality, but maybe another time?"  
  
Elaine looked a little disappointed, while it was even harder for Sören to not laugh at the look of consternation on Anthony's face. "All right, another time," Elaine said. "Sören, you _must_ come for tea one of these nights."  
  
"I will," Sören assured her. "Maybe in a couple of weeks." He knew that if he was in that house, it was going to be very difficult to resist canoodling with Anthony, and it would be safer to do that when Nicholas gave the green light for Sören to be intimate with Anthony again. As it was, just going to a public place like Greenleaf was going to drive him out of his mind with sexual frustration.  
  
"OK. Well, have fun, kids," Elaine said, hugging them both.  
  
"Mum, we're not kids. I'm _thirty-five_ ," Anthony huffed indignantly.  
  
"You're still a kid," Elaine said. She waved on her way back into the house, and at the door Sören saw Roger, who paused and waved before dragging Elaine inside, grunting and shaking his head.  
  
Anthony facepalmed. "God. I'm sorry. Mum means well, but she's... what are people saying now? _So extra._ "  
  
Sören's laughter rang out, no longer able to be contained. "I love Elaine."  
  
"I LOVE YOU TOO," Elaine called back, probably from the foyer, and then there was a "JESUS CHRIST, ELAINE," from Roger, which made Sören howl while Anthony leaned on him and made a little noise of distress.  
  
"You're pretty extra too," Sören said, patting Anthony, who leaned up and gave him a look. "At least we know you come by that honestly."  
  
Anthony began limping along on his cane in the direction of Greenleaf. They each had an arm around each other's waists. The sun hadn't set yet, but the last light had that old-gold quality, and that too made Sören ache. There was something deeply romantic about walking with one of the men he loved in the golden haze on a summer night.  
  
"You holding up OK?" Sören asked after they got a block into the walk.  
  
Anthony nodded, frowning a little.  
  
"Sorry," Sören said. "I didn't mean to sound patronizing by asking -"  
  
"No, it's... it's fine. It's just... disconcerting, I used to be able to run for kilometers without getting too tired before the accident and now I'm done in after a round trip to Greenleaf. But like I said, I need to push myself. I'll never be fully recovered, and it's important to be realistic about the limits of progress. Still, I'm doing better now than I was two months ago and if I keep going for walks like this I'll be a little stronger in another two months."  
  
"Yes." Sören nodded. "Just... don't push yourself too hard."  
  
"I won't. I know my limits better now than in the first few weeks following the accident. That was a bloody nightmare. I fell I don't know how many times." Anthony cringed.  
  
"Well, if you fall... I'll catch you." Sören glanced over at him, and kissed his cheek.  
  
Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
Anthony gave a little laugh that sounded more nervous than happy. "And on that note, of knowing my limits... I really do mean that I'm going to be done in after we get back from Greenleaf. I don't know if you were planning on spending the night or not -"  
  
"I originally was," Sören said, "but Nick asked me not to."  
  
"I see."  
  
Sören knew in those two words that Anthony wasn't thrilled. He sighed and explained, "This is still some getting used to for him. Nick needs at least a couple of weeks before he can... be good... with the idea of us..."  
  
"I suppose if the situation were reversed," Anthony said, "I'd feel the same way... if I even permitted you to see him at all. But I hope he does get to a place where he's well and truly OK with everything, or that's going to cause problems."  
  
" _I know_ ," Sören said, and then he realized how defensive that sounded. He sighed again and said, "I think he will be. He's been fine with me and my other partners, but this is obviously different. You and I have a history they don't. I think he needs to see for himself that despite our history, he's not being replaced."  
  
"Do you think that me having another talk with him would help set any concerns he had to rest?"  
  
"I don't know, but I think that more than words, it's going to be actions that prove to him I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"That's fair," Anthony said.  
  
Sören knew that hit a nerve - Anthony's own actions would prove that there wasn't going to be a repeat of their relationship breakdown in 2013. Sören gave him a reassuring little squeeze. "But, yeah," Sören said. "Unfortunately, I can't spend the night. And I would have been OK just cuddling, you know, if you were too tired."  
  
"I like cuddling, but I'd be angry with my own body," Anthony said with a chuckle. "I think when we go there it'll have to be a day when I've not had physical therapy and haven't done a lot of walking around. At least till I get stronger."  
  
"You make it sound like you intend on pounding me into next week."  
  
"No," Anthony said. He gave a wicked grin. "More like next year."  
  
"I'm disappointed. Not next century?"  
  
"Hi Disappointed Not Next Century -"  
  
Sören reached out and grabbed Anthony's nose. "OK, Corn _._ "  
  
"God, I missed that, IKEA." Anthony turned to look at him and his eyes were too bright.  
  
Sören stopped in his tracks, grabbed him, and stole a kiss, not caring who was around to see and judge them. Then he pointed - the bookstore was in plain sight now. They resumed walking.  
  
"Land ho," Anthony said.  
  
"I am not a ho," Sören protested, even though he knew that wasn't what Anthony meant. "I am a _rakehell._ "  
  
Anthony gave him an incredulous look and then a full-bodied laugh, seemingly delighted. "Where did you learn that word? Nicholas?"  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"Well, he's not wrong." Anthony smirked.  
  
"And you're a rapscallion."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Despite their mutual love of reading and their frequent trips to Blackheath when they were together, Sören had never been to Greenleaf. The bookstore had an old-fashioned feel similar to a library, with high bookshelves, sections neatly organized by subject, and lots of little nooks with leather armchairs and wooden tables; antique pendant lights hung from the ceilings, bathing the bookshop in a soft golden glow. There was a rack of wicker baskets by the door for customers to take and put their books in as they shopped.  
  
Anthony and Sören not only had a mutual love of reading, but similar reading tastes, and went straight to the sci-fi and fantasy section. The bookshop sold used books as well as fresh copies, and used books had dot stickers that corresponded with a price chart.  
  
Ursula K. Le Guin was Anthony's favorite author, and it occurred to Sören that he hadn't seen any of Le Guin's work in Nicholas's vast library. Sören wondered if Nicholas had read Le Guin, and if not, that was something to introduce him to, something the two of them could talk about... something perhaps all three of them could talk about, though Sören was treading lightly with that, not wanting to force Anthony and Nicholas to be friends, remembering how disastrous it was when Anthony tried to get Sören to be friends with his now-former friends. Nonetheless, there was enough of a spark of hope - if only to find some more common ground with Nicholas - that Sören found himself looking through the selection of Le Guin. There were both newer and used books, and though Sören could certainly afford newer books, there was a certain charm about old books and giving them a new home, so he started a stack of used Le Guin titles.  
  
Anthony looked on at Sören's selections approvingly, while he added N.K. Jemisin to the wicker basket Sören was carrying. "The _Inheritance_ trilogy," he explained. "It's been highly recommended but I've never gotten around to reading it. I have more free time now, I suppose."  
  
Sören again felt a twinge of sympathy for him, wishing that Anthony had gotten in touch with him sooner - but then his accident and Craig's overdose were so close together that he didn't know if he would have been as available as Anthony would have needed. Sören still felt guilty that Anthony had been so alone these last few months, and put his free arm around Anthony.  
  
As they wandered through the immense sci-fi/fantasy section, Anthony and Sören remarked on books they'd read, or books they'd wanted to read and hadn't read yet. They also talked about which books they'd read that would make good movies, and the conversation eventually turned to a copy of _Jurassic Park_ and discussing the recent viewing of _Jurassic World_.  
  
"Did you talk to your friend? Ben. Karen's brother."  
  
Sören smiled. "You remembered his name." Immediately he felt like an idiot; Anthony was keenly observant of small details.  
  
Anthony nodded. "I did."  
  
"I did talk to him, yes. He came over with Pierre for Sunday night dinner - it's a bit of a tradition to have Karen, Geir, Ben, Pierre and Craig come over on Sundays. I worked until eight PM but we eat later on nights like that."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Just from that one syllable, Sören picked up on a touch of discomfort, and felt another twinge. He realized that now that Anthony had no friends of his own, Sören having friends was possibly a sore subject. But then Anthony seemed a little self-conscious of his own discomfort and said, "Go on."  
  
"So, yeah. Ben dragged Pierre to see the movie but Pierre wasn't as enthusiastic as he was, I guess you could call it, so Ben wanted to be able to geek out with someone else over dinosaurs." Sören chuckled. "I don't know that I'm as geeky about it as he is, but I've always found paleontology interesting. Moreso other extinct animals, like woolly mammoths and saber-tooth tigers. I might have gone into paleontology if I hadn't been compelled to become a doctor at a young age. Finding fossils and things." Sören snorted, resisting the obvious crack about _I already found one, I live with him._ He loved Nicholas intensely and it was meant affectionately, but he still worried about coming off disrespectful - even he had limits.  
  
Anthony's eyes twinkled, as if he knew what Sören was thinking but not saying, and Sören pursed his lips.  
  
"I think I would have gone into archaeology if I hadn't been compelled to go into law at a young age," Anthony said, sobering. Their eyes met, and Sören felt that spark quickening again - _kindred spirits._ Anthony gave a wry smile. "Maybe there's an alternate universe where we're on a dig together."  
  
"'A dig'." Sören couldn't resist making the innuendo, and air quotes. "'Bones.'"  
  
Anthony threw his head back and laughed, and gave Sören a little kiss. "Don't ever change, Sören."  
  
Every so often Anthony needed to sit down, which Sören didn't mind - there was a nook of chairs near the sci-fi/fantasy section. The first couple of times they stole little glimpses at the books in their basket. But on the third rest stop, Anthony looked self-conscious, frowning at his cane. Sören reached over to rub Anthony's shoulders. "It's OK, _elskan_ ," Sören said.  
  
Anthony sighed. "I hate it. I feel so fucking powerless."  
  
"Don't be so hard on yourself." Sören cupped Anthony's chin and tilted Anthony's face to his. "I accept you as you are. No pity, no shame."  
  
Anthony gave a tight, sad smile, and Sören leaned in and kissed him. What was meant to be a soft, chaste kiss in a public place quickly heated, their lips parting, tongues teasing, playing, and soon Sören lost any sense of public decorum and he and Anthony were kissing deeply, fiercely, hungrily. Sören moaned at the feel of Anthony's fingers in his hair, and when Anthony began to kiss his sensitive neck - Anthony knew just how to undo him - Sören felt his cock rising in his jeans. He pulled himself together before they could get in trouble in public, and because Sören knew they couldn't go there tonight.  
  
"Food," Sören said, and realized how breathy and husky his voice sounded in the midst of his arousal. "We should... eat something."  
  
Anthony gave him a pointed look, and Sören facepalmed, laughing. Anthony laughed too.  
  
They shared one last kiss, and when they pulled back, the flush in Anthony's cheeks, the way his eyes sparkled, and the little smile he gave Sören as his breath caught made Sören want to drag him off and ravish him. But instead Sören helped Anthony to his feet. "Um, where's the cafe?"  
  
"This way," Anthony said, pointing, and led the way, one arm around Sören, the other hand holding his cane, limping along.  
  
The cafe in Greenleaf was small and humble - there wasn't much on the menu but salads and sandwiches, a selection of baked goods and of course, the requisite coffee, tea, and beverages like lemonade. Sören had a cherry lemonade, which sounded good on a warm summer night, and went with a big Greek salad; Anthony had tuna on toast and a regular lemonade.  
  
"I know it's not much," Anthony said, looking around.  
  
Sören waved a hand dismissively. "You forget who you're dealing with. Everything doesn't need to be fancy all the time."  
  
"I don't forget who I'm dealing with," Anthony said softly. "I just... want to spoil you."  
  
Sören kicked him under the table. "I have no complaints." Sören leered. "Well, you know. Except that we can't..."  
  
Anthony chuckled, turning red. Then he held up his index finger and fished around in his pocket. Sören wondered if he was getting out his cell phone, but then Sören saw papers folded in fourths. Anthony passed it to him and Sören unfolded it, and saw the test results from Anthony's doctor's office. He was negative for HIV and all sexually transmitted diseases.  
  
"Good," Sören said.  
  
"I have my, ah. Prescription." Anthony was referring to Truvada.  
  
"Also good." Sören narrowed his eyes. "I don't know if your doctor told you this, but stomach issues are a potential side effect -"  
  
"I've been on it before, Sören."  
  
"Oh, right." Sören facepalmed, not wanting to think about the time after they broke up. The thought of Anthony "sowing his oats" post-breakup made him irrationally angry, even though Sören himself had eventually gotten back into having sex with other people and he knew it wasn't fair to expect Anthony to be a celibate monk during that time apart.  
  
"Also..." Anthony grinned. "You're such a doctor."  
  
Sören laughed, which helped alleviate some of the sting of thinking about Anthony's sexual history. "I'm sorry. Force of habit, I guess."  
  
"It's cute." Anthony reached across the table and poked the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, and Anthony growled into his lemonade. That growl didn't help, sending Sören's mind right back to the gutter, thinking of the times Anthony made that same growl when they were fucking. His body started screaming for relief again.  
  
When their meal was finished, they decided to bring their books to the front register to check out. There was a small queue, and Sören let Anthony lean on him. That turned into nuzzling and petting, and Sören was a little startled when it was their turn.  
  
Anthony let Sören pay for his books first, and then Anthony paid for his own. Sören was a little concerned when everything went into separate bags and Anthony took his bag from the counter. "Do you want me to carry it?" Sören asked.  
  
Anthony shook his head firmly. "I need to," he said.  
  
Sören tried not to grumble; there was a difference between toxic pride and taking on more than one could handle, and needing to do at least some things for oneself. Anthony noticed the look on Sören's face and said, "If I need help, I won't hesitate to ask, Sören."  
  
"OK, fair."  
  
The bag did slow Anthony down on the way back, and halfway to the villa he had to stop for a moment. Sören thought about offering to take the bag again, but he thought better of it, not wanting to offend Anthony by asking.  
  
Once they reached the villa, Anthony put his bag down on the sidewalk and came closer to Sören, putting an arm around him. "Would you like me to wait outside with you while you call a cab -"  
  
That was when Elaine came out of the house again, as if she'd been watching at the window to wait for their return. "I can drive you back, Sören."  
  
Anthony made a noise. "Mum. _Mother._ "  
  
"What?" Elaine narrowed her eyes. "It's not any trouble, and this way Sören doesn't have to call a cab -"  
  
Sören chuckled and gave Anthony a reassuring pat. " _Takk_ , Elaine, that's good of you."  
  
Elaine drove a cobalt blue Aston Martin Rapide, which made Sören feel like he was in a James Bond movie. He felt a little guilty about Anthony having to get in the car, and knew getting out would also be a pain for him, but Anthony didn't want to stay home while Elaine brought Sören back. Sören sat in the back seat with Anthony, and Elaine put on jazz as she got on the road.  
  
"How was your date?" Elaine asked.  
  
"Good," Sören said, and Anthony nodded. Sören put an arm around Anthony. "I really liked going to Greenleaf, we'll have to do that again."  
  
Anthony kissed Sören's cheek. "I'm glad. I worried after I suggested it that you might not like it. Which I realize sounds ridiculous, I know you like reading -"  
  
"It's normal to have nerves on a date, and want to make a good impression, dear," Elaine said.  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes and Sören chuckled. "Well, she's right," Sören said. "I mean hell, when we went to go see _Jurassic World_ last week I worried you'd think it was hokey..."  
  
"See?" Elaine laughed too. "I think it really matters less _where_ you go and what you do, more that you enjoy each other's company, and clearly you do."  
  
"We do," Sören said, taking Anthony's hand and squeezing.  
  
"The two of you were so _good_ together. I can't say enough how glad I am that you're back together," Elaine said. Then she glanced into the rearview mirror and said, "On that note, Sören, I hope that you're not going back because you think Roger and I would mind if you spent the night. We have no objections -"  
  
" _Mother_ ," Anthony said, with such a pained look on his face that Sören couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"It's not that," Sören said. "Nick asked me to come back tonight." He didn't want to get into how his nesting partner still needed some time to adjust to Sören being with Anthony. "And Anthony's pretty beat after all that walking..."  
  
"I see. How is Nicholas?" Elaine asked.  
  
"Good," Sören said. "It's wild you guys knew each other growing up. It's hard to think Nick was ever a kid."  
  
"He was just as serious when he was young, yes," Elaine said, chuckling. "But he was a good friend. I'm glad he's around again, too. Tell him I'm looking forward to getting together with him for coffee and/or some antiquing, hm? Maybe when you and Anthony go on your next date."  
  
Sören and Anthony looked at each other. "Right, I should have scheduled that while we were at the cafe," Sören said. "I got a bit distracted." Even now, looking into Anthony's green eyes, Sören felt like his head was spinning, like he could barely string two coherent sentences together. He was falling in love with Anthony all over again.  
  
"Me too," Anthony said, smiling; he reached out to touch Sören's face and Sören felt a tingle go through him.  
  
Sören reluctantly pulled back to fish out his cell phone and look at his calendar. Then he made noises. "So, next week I alternate between working overnights and working until late." He gave Anthony an apologetic look.  
  
Anthony's smile became a frown. "Oh."  
  
Sören showed him the calendar, just to reassure him that he wasn't being ghosted, and he rubbed Anthony's shoulder while he looked at it. "I have an idea, though," Sören said. "I don't know what your afternoons look like, but if you want to see me sometime next week I can clear an afternoon. Nick teaches during the summer too, so he'll still be on campus -"  
  
"Oh!" Anthony brightened a little, and nodded. He squinted at the calendar again. "How does the fifteenth... Wednesday afternoon, work for you?"  
  
"It works for me. Around one or so? If I'm back by five, it'll give me a chance to get a nap before going in at eleven on Wednesday night."  
  
"OK. What would you like to do?" Anthony cocked his head to one side.  
  
 _You._ But Sören knew they couldn't go there just yet. He rubbed his beard as he thought, and then he checked the weather forecast on his phone. "It should be sunny on Wednesday. How do you feel about going to St. James's Park and having a picnic, and watching the pelican feeding between two and two thirty?" Nicholas had taken him there on a Saturday afternoon back in May, and Sören was delighted by the pelicans.  
  
Anthony hesitated, and looked at his cane, and Sören realized he probably felt self-conscious about going to such a public place in daytime in the summer, but before Sören could suggest something else, Anthony nodded. "All right. I like birds."  
  
"Good." Sören smiled. He really liked being in pretty scenic places - that was indeed something they hadn't done enough of during the nearly two years they were together, and Sören felt like it would be good for them to fix that.  
  
Anthony gave a shy little smile back, and Sören kissed his cheek encouragingly.  
  
"Oh, how lovely," Elaine said. "It's been awhile since I've been to St. James's Park myself. I should drag Roger along sometime."  
  
Anthony laughed at that. "That sounds so romantic, Mum, dragging Dad along."  
  
"Well, you know. Your father isn't exactly the most romantic person. But he shows he cares in other ways. I think you got your sentimentality from me." Elaine glanced at Sören in the rearview mirror. "Before he argues that he's not, he sleeps with a picture of you under his pillow. He has since before he moved back home -"  
  
Anthony double facepalmed and made a tormented little howl. " _Mother._ Mum. _I swear to god._ "  
  
But Sören thought that was adorable, and it made him ache. He found himself hugging Anthony hard, eyes burning with unshed tears. While he was glad to be with his other partners, especially Nicholas, he wished things had never fallen apart, he wished there had been a way for them to walk down that aisle in 2013, and somehow still find their way to the others, though Sören wondered about how it would work out with nesting with them both.  
  
The fact that he was even entertaining that idea terrified him, and he pulled back. _This is moving way too fast. He destroyed my trust, I can't let him in like this just yet._ Even so, his heart wanted what it wanted.  
  
They cuddled for the rest of the ride to Covent Garden. However awkward Anthony might have felt it was for Elaine to drive them, Sören still felt cozy snuggling with him in the back seat, in the soft blue dusk of the summer evening. When they were a few blocks away, Sören called Nicholas's cell phone to let him know he was on his way, and then resumed cuddling Anthony, not wanting to miss a moment of feeling him close, watching the dusk deepen to the black of night, aching for all those nights they'd missed since October 2013.  
  
At last they pulled up to the curb and Sören said to Elaine, "Thank you very much for the ride home," Sören said.  
  
"No problem. You know, if you're coming out this way, or if you need a ride anywhere, you can always call me -"  
  
"Mum," Anthony said in a pained tone of voice, "please."  
  
Sören elbowed him, chuckling. "She's just trying to be nice. And I may take you up on that, Elaine, depending on what it is. Waiting for a cab can be a bit of a hassle."  
  
"Yes, which is exactly why I offered, _Cornelius Anthony_ ," Elaine said, though despite her stern tone, she was smiling in the rearview mirror.  
  
"Well..." Sören stroked Anthony's cheek. "I don't want to make you get out of the car -"  
  
"No, it's OK. I... feel I should walk you to the door, at least," Anthony said.  
  
"Yes, walk him to the door like a gentleman and give him a proper kiss," Elaine said.  
  
"MOTHER."  
  
Sören tried not to laugh too hard as he made his way around to the other side of the car to help Anthony out. Sören could see Nicholas in the lobby, in his pajamas, so Sören didn't want to take too long, even though he didn't want a rushed goodbye with Anthony, either. Anthony moved Sören out of the range of sight from the doors, and then kissed him - Sören realized that was wise, hoping Nicholas wouldn't come out of the lobby, not wanting to make things even more tense with kissing Anthony in front of him. Sören wrapped his arms around Anthony, kissing him hard, melting, wishing he could stop time for a little while and just lose himself in the kiss.  
  
When they pulled apart, their faces were still close for a moment and they rubbed noses. Anthony reached with his free hand to pet Sören's curls, stroke his face, skritch his beard. "I love you," Anthony husked.  
  
"I love you too, _elskan._ "  
  
They kissed again, more softly. Then Sören said, "So Wednesday at one? And, ah, how do you want to go about transportation?"  
  
"Mum will probably never leave me alone unless I let her drive me." Anthony cringed and rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, if you guys pick me up here, that saves me a bit of time."  
  
"All right. I'm sorry -"  
  
"Don't be sorry."  
  
"I feel... stupid. Like I'm some kid whose mummy has to chauffeur him around."  
  
"Oh, _Anthony._ " Sören shook his head. "It's OK. Seriously. I don't mind."  
  
"I mind. But I suppose it's something I have to learn to live with."  
  
"It could be worse." Sören snickered. "It could be your dad."  
  
"Oh, GOD."  
  
Sören laughed harder, kissed Anthony's cheek, and gave him a little squeeze. Then he said, "Feel free to call me between now and Wednesday."  
  
"I will. That's almost a week away, and I'll miss you."  
  
Sören's stomach did somersaults. "I'll miss you too, _elskan._ I love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
Sören watched Anthony hobble back to the car and Elaine waved, and Sören waved at them both. Nicholas opened the door for him, and immediately took Sören's bag of books, like a gentleman, even though Sören had no trouble carrying it.  
  
"Ah, I see you have new books for the library," Nicholas said approvingly.  
  
"And maybe for us to read together, and discuss."  
  
Nicholas smiled, eyes crinkling up. Sören loved that, and couldn't resist hugging him and giving him a kiss.  
  
"You're such a sweet, thoughtful boy," Nicholas said softly, and put an arm around Sören, leading him to the elevator.  
  
Once in the elevator, Sören snuggled into Nicholas's chest, rubbing his nose in the silver fur exposed in the V-neck of his pajama top, loving the way it made him feel safe, like Nicholas was his teddy bear. Nicholas pet his curls and rocked him. "How was your date?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"It was good, Daddy." Sören looked up at him. "How was your reading?"  
  
"Good." Nicholas nodded. "Although, I didn't _just_ read."  
  
"No? Oh, I suppose you cooked dinner for yourself too..."  
  
"There's leftovers if you want anything, I didn't know how much you'd eat at Greenleaf."  
  
"I had a big salad. It was actually pretty filling, but I'd be happy to take the leftovers as lunch tomorrow."  
  
"Did you have dessert? Do you want dessert?"  
  
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
Nicholas's laughter rang out and he swatted Sören's ass as the lift chimed at their floor. "You incorrigible boy."  
  
Tobias immediately began to chirp and rub against Sören's legs, demanding pettings, after they walked in. Sören scooped him up and for a moment Tobias perched on his shoulder purring loudly as Sören stroked him and gave him kisses. Then Tobias got down and scratched happily at a scratching post. It was then Sören noticed the lights were dim in the flat, and there was a trail of pink rose petals leading from the living room and kitchen, out to the hall. Nicholas put the bag of books down on the coffee table and gestured for Sören to follow.  
  
Sören ended up following him up the stairs to the rooftop garden - there were rose petals all the way up the stairs. Sören gasped when he saw what was waiting in the rooftop garden - the fairy lights were lit, as well as lanterns and candles on the table, and lanterns hanging from hooks around the garden. On the table there was a bouquet of pink roses, and a bottle of champagne with champagne glasses, and glasses of pink champagne jelly with whipped cream and sponge fingers.  
  
And on the floor of the rooftop garden, Nicholas had set up cushions with a sheet over it, and pillows; more pink rose petals were scattered around the makeshift bed. Sören saw a bowl on the floor beside the pillows that had a bottle of massage oil and a bottle of lubricant.  
  
" _Nick._ " Sören grabbed him and kissed his cheek, and started raining kisses over his face, absolutely delighted and touched. Once again tears came to his eyes and he felt like he was soaring, feeling like he could break into pieces from how much he loved this man.  
  
Nicholas chuckled before he took Sören's face in his and kissed him, soft and sweet at first, then more deeply. Sören shivered as Nicholas's hands ran over him, and Sören's own hands roamed over Nicholas's body, wanting.  
  
But first, he was going to enjoy the trouble that his mate had gone to. Nicholas poured them each a glass of champagne. "To trust," Nicholas said softly.  
  
"To trust." Sören felt just the slightest sting - Anthony had betrayed that trust two years ago, and there had been warning signs months into the relationship, when Sören felt out of sorts around Anthony's friends. In five months with Nicholas, there had not even been one incident to give him pause and it was a bitter contrast. Sören tried not to make comparisons, feeling like it wasn't fair, and made himself focus on the thoughtfulness of Nicholas setting all of this up for them to have some quality time with what remained of the evening.  
  
They drank, and Nicholas gave him a hungry look over the champagne. As soon as Sören drained his glass, he started to strip - it was after dark, and there was likely no one to see them up here making love or Nicholas wouldn't have set things up this way. Nonetheless, Nicholas chuckled at Sören's "get right down to business" attitude, and stopped laughing when he saw Sören's erection, giving a little sigh.  
  
"You're beautiful," Nicholas said, pulling Sören closer, hand resting on Sören's waist, thumb stroking that sweet spot on the right side of his body where the waist and hip met, where Sören had gotten the fireflower rose tattoo in early June.  
  
"I love you, Nick." Sören threw himself down onto the bedding.  
  
Nicholas laughed again. "I love you too, sweetheart." He brought over the dessert, and then champagne and the glasses for a refill.  
  
They fed each other the pink champagne jelly and whipped cream and sponge fingers, which seemed to taste even more delicious to Sören for the playful sensuality between them. After more sips of champagne, Nicholas got naked - Sören took a long, appreciative glance - then Sören rolled onto his stomach and Nicholas poured the vanilla-flavored massage oil over his back, still warm. Sören moaned as Nicholas worked the oil into him, and then moaned louder as Nicholas straddled his hips, hands kneading, Nicholas's hard cock rubbing against the small of his back, then into the crack of his ass.  
  
The deep, firm massage was just what Sören needed after the last several days of work, soothing him and arousing him all at once, and Nicholas's kisses followed the wake of his hands, kissing and licking Sören's shoulders, then down his sensitive spine. Soon Sören was rubbing against the cushions, going out of his mind with lust and sensation, needing to be taken, fucked.  
  
When the back of Sören was done, Nicholas had him roll over and began working on the front of him, rubbing and kissing his way down. Sören arched to him, panting, his need even stronger, especially now that he could look at Nicholas, admiring the furry, trim body, the hungry look on Nicholas's face, the heat in those dark eyes. Sören felt almost ready to come when Nicholas lingered at his nipples, rubbing them then lapping, suckling, going back and forth between them again and again, sucking harder and harder, at last tugging on the nipple rings with his teeth before lashing his tongue faster, sucking fiercely. When Nicholas rubbed and kissed his stomach, Sören heard himself whimpering, almost sobbing, and let out a cry so loud he worried about the neighbors as Nicholas kissed and licked the rose tattoo at his waist.  
  
Then Nicholas started licking at Sören's cock, teasing him. Sören was so pent up that when Nicholas took the cock into his mouth, it only took a few minutes of sucking - and making eye contact, Nicholas giving him a predatory look that drove him mad with lust - and then Sören exploded in Nicholas's mouth. He hadn't intended on coming that soon, but from the way Nicholas made a deep "mmmmmm" and swallowed his seed, then licked him clean, Sören got the sense that it was just what Nicholas wanted. Nicholas came up to kiss him, and Sören shivered at tasting himself in the kiss, the evidence of Nicholas pleasuring him. "Good boy," Nicholas whispered, and started kissing down Sören's neck. Sören's cock rose again, like he was twenty instead of thirty. Nicholas chuckled, reaching down to stroke it. "I love pleasing you, sweetheart," Nicholas said, and licked Sören's neck, before taking a nibble.  
  
"Oh god." Sören shuddered and dug his nails into Nicholas's back. "God, Nick..."  
  
Sören glanced over at the bowl next to the bedding, looking at the lube, and his gaze focused on the massage oil next to it. Sören grabbed the bottle of massage oil, wanting to return the favor, even though he was already ready to get fucked. "Your turn," Sören said.  
  
They kissed again and Nicholas lay on his stomach. Sören gave the massage his all, kneading, rolling, hands gliding back and forth and in circles, pressing as deep as he could... also kissing Nicholas's back, enjoying the mild vanilla flavor of the massage oil and the taste of Nicholas's skin underneath. Even more than that, he enjoyed the way Nicholas moaned and shivered underneath his hands and tongue. When Nicholas rolled onto his back, Sören gave him a long, hungry look. "You are so fucking sexy," Sören said, running his fingers down the pelt of Nicholas's chest, over his stomach, over the hairy thighs and back up, then back down, resting on Nicholas's cock for a moment before he poured the oil over Nicholas's chest. "God, you get me hot."  
  
Nicholas blushed and chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart."  
  
Sören spent a long time on the front of Nicholas's body, worshiping him with his hands - and his tongue. Sören loved the sight of Nicholas's body glistening with oil in the golden glow of the fairy lights and lanterns and candles, and loved licking Nicholas's chest hair and his nipples, teasing him. As he rubbed Nicholas down, their hard cocks rubbed together, and finally Sören dove down and began to suck Nicholas's cock, slowly, their gaze locked. Nicholas clutched at Sören's head, moaning, until he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed the lube. Sören laughed as he pulled Nicholas's cock out of his mouth, and stopped laughing, both of them moaning, as Sören poured the lube over Nicholas's cock.  
  
Sören sank down and they both cried out when they were fully joined, Nicholas deep inside him. Sören leaned down to kiss him and Nicholas wrapped his arms around him, beginning to thrust. Sören rode slowly at first, savoring, but soon enough need surged through them both and Nicholas grabbed Sören's hips and drove into him as Sören bucked away on top of him, riding hard, trying not to moan and cry out so loud he'd disturb the neighbors, but it felt so good, Nicholas's cock stroking him just right. And when Nicholas's hand wrapped around Sören's cock, the combination of Nicholas's cock stroking that magic place inside him, and Nicholas's hand gripping and working him, made Sören scream, riding even harder, nails digging into Nicholas's shoulders.  
  
"Such a good boy," Nicholas whispered, his other hand reaching up to play with one of Sören's nipples. "Daddy's good boy."  
  
"Oh god." Sören shuddered. Nicholas knew _just how_ to get him to that edge. "Oh god, Daddy..."  
  
"Yes, sweetheart. Daddy wants to take care of his boy..."  
  
"Oh, _fuck._ " Sören shivered again. He was right there, so close...  
  
"Does my good boy want to come for his Daddy?"  
  
"Oh god, oh fuck, yes, Daddy, yes, _please_..."  
  
There was that last moment of hot, wild fucking that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Sören completely gone in pleasure and passion, and then Nicholas growled, "Come for Daddy," and Sören lost it, throwing his head back and crying out into the night sky as he spent over Nicholas's chest, the orgasm like flying, burning, melting, pure light, like the phoenix on his back. Nicholas groaned and trembled, and Sören felt the hot seed rush inside him, and Sören moaned, loving that feel of Nicholas coming in him, _claiming_ him.  
  
Sören curled up on his chest. "God, that was amazing." He rained kisses over Nicholas's face again. " _You_ were amazing. That was such a wonderful surprise, waiting at home for me."  
  
"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Nicholas smiled tenderly and gave Sören a little kiss, then pulled him close, held him tight, rocking him. "I did indeed want you to feel welcomed home."  
  
Sören felt a little twinge then, wondering if Nicholas was feeling insecure because of Anthony, and thought he had to go out of his way to keep Sören nesting with him. Sören looked up into Nicholas's eyes. "Oh, Nick. I'm not going anywhere." He had to tease him a little. " _As you know._ I _shan't_ leave you."  
  
"I know," Nicholas said, patting him.  
  
But Sören worried that he didn't, and he hoped over the next few weeks and months, as Nicholas got more used to things, it would put his fears to rest. Sören squeezed him. " _Elskan_ ," he husked. "I love you so much. You don't have to prove anything to me."  
  
"I still wanted to do something nice for you," Nicholas said. "Is that so wrong?"  
  
"Well, no. I just..." Sören pursed his lips. "I don't want you to worry and feel like you have to... do extra stuff... to keep me around."  
  
"You need to let your man spoil you without protesting so much." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose, giving him a mock stern look.  
  
Sören snuggled against him again. He did enjoy this evening very much, and he liked being spoiled - while it also reminded him of Anthony saying the same thing, and that hadn't saved them years ago. But he tried not to let the afterglow cast a shadow, and rested against his partner, safe in his arms, safe in their little nest.


	7. Sunshine

Anthony's heart skipped a beat as he saw Sören waiting at the curb, with a cooler. Even dressed down in black cargo shorts and a Nine Inch Nails "Pretty Hate Machine" T-shirt, Sören was beautiful to him, and the way Sören's face lit up as Elaine's Aston Martin drove closer made Anthony feel like he could fly. He waved back as Elaine pulled over. Sören loaded the cooler into the passenger seat next to Elaine, leaning over to give her a warm hug, and then Sören took off his backpack, and when Sören got in the back seat next to Anthony he grabbed Anthony, squeezed him, and kissed his cheek.  
  
"Awwwwwwwwwww," Elaine said.  
  
"Mum, please." It was bad enough Elaine was chaperoning them to and from the park.  
  
Sören chuckled.  
  
"You look like you packed quite a bit," Elaine said, looking at the size of the cooler.  
  
"Jæja, Nick really went all out last night."  
  
Anthony was still pleasantly surprised that Sören had insisted he didn't need to bring anything because Nicholas wanted to make a picnic lunch for them, even though he wasn't coming along himself - it seemed like a very nice gesture of support from Sören's partner. _Even though he's still not OK with us sleeping together._ Anthony tried not to be upset about it, knowing if the situation were reversed he'd probably have an issue with it too, if not the entire relationship itself. What the work of Nicholas for his partner's date with another partner told Anthony was that Nicholas was expressing the sentiment of _wanting_ to be OK with things, trying, and that made him feel a little better about things, though not necessarily great.  
  
"I still wanted to make something," Elaine said, "so there's a cake in the back seat."  
  
Anthony was, indeed, holding it on his lap, in a small, covered cake dish, just big enough for two people to share. "It's a lemon cake." Lemon cake was his favorite.  
  
"Oh, excellent. There's always room for cake," Sören said, smiling. " _Takk_ , Elaine, you're so sweet."  
  
" _You're_ sweet," Elaine said. "Anthony has told me so many things about the ways you used to take care of him when you were together. He's lucky to have you."  
  
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mum. _Mother._ " Even though he knew Sören didn't think less of him for being a mummy's boy, he was still intensely self-conscious about it, having been bullied about it when he was younger. And after his accident, with his mobility issues and the way he was having to pick up the pieces of the psychological wreckage, he felt helpless enough without Elaine smothering him so much. He knew his mother meant well, and he loved her fiercely, but he really wished she would tone it down just _a little_.  
  
"I'm lucky to have him too," Sören said softly.  
  
Anthony blinked back tears. After what he'd done, after losing all hope of getting Sören back - being forgiven - to hear Sören say _that_ , of all things, went straight to his heart. He fought the urge to cry, not wanting to fall apart, especially not when it was a beautiful summer afternoon in July and they were going to a park and love was fresh and new again. This was supposed to be something joyous, not ripping open old wounds. Nonetheless, Anthony felt choked up, and Sören seemed to know, putting an arm around him, nuzzling him.  
  
It was a short drive from Covent Garden to St. James's Park - Sören could have walked it but Anthony knew Sören probably wanted to go on the ride as a show of solidarity with Anthony - and before Anthony knew it, they were there. When Elaine let them off, she asked, "Do you want to give me a set time to return or would you rather call when you're ready?"  
  
Anthony and Sören exchanged glances and Sören made the "go ahead" gesture at Anthony. Anthony thought for a moment and then he said, "I think I'd rather call when we're ready, just because I don't want to hold you up if I set a time and then I'm a bit slow." Anthony looked at his cane and tried not to wince. "I hate potentially interrupting you -"  
  
"I wouldn't have insisted on bringing you if you were going to interrupt anything important," Elaine said. "It's no bother at all."  
  
Anthony still sighed, but then Sören gave him a stern _don't get down on yourself_ look and poked his nose. Anthony poked Sören's nose in return. Sören got out of the car, put his backpack back on, came around for the cooler, and then came around to help Anthony, taking the cake first and setting it down on the cooler before pulling Anthony out of the car. As much as Anthony really hated his mobility issues with struggling out of a car, he didn't mind so much the proximity to Sören, or the little hug Sören gave him once he was out. Sören was being so _good_ about this, and the acceptance made him want to cry all over again.  
  
He resisted the impulse to grab Sören and kiss him, since his mother's car was still right there. They waved and then they were off, with Anthony carrying the cake in his free hand and Sören carrying the cooler.  
  
They walked for awhile to find a picnic spot that was reasonably close to the pelican feeding area, so they wouldn't have so far to go at feeding time. Every now and again Anthony had to sit and rest, and by the time they got to the pelican area it was already close to feeding time, so they just brought the cooler and cake with them, the cake dish resting on top of the cooler on the ground beside them as they watched at the fence.  
  
The birdkeeper came out in scrubs and gloves, which made Sören laugh, and then he laughed even harder as the pelicans began to swarm around her. They were a comical sight with their long beaks and wobbly pouches, even funnier when the birdkeeper began to throw fish and some of them caught the fish in their open mouths, while others chased after the fish and used their long beaks to pick up the fish from the ground. The pelicans made noises like snorting and Sören had a gigglefit, leaning on Anthony.  
  
Anthony couldn't help laughing too, the pelicans were adorably ridiculous, and he had a vague "grass is greener" feeling about the park's birdkeeper, who lived in a a pretty cottage on Duck Island, but he knew that law was his calling and eventually he would have to go back to it, when he'd made a little more progress in his rehabilitation and was less self-conscious about his cane, _if that day ever comes._ But there was still a wistfulness to keep birds, wishing he had a bird menagerie, and then scolding himself: _You can barely take care of a cat now, never mind a lot of birds._  
  
Anthony sighed.  
  
Before he could get too gloomy, one pelican was snapping at another for a fish, and the fish the birdkeeper threw at the snapping pelican got taken by the pelican being snapped at, who ran away. "Ohhh burn," Sören said. Then the snapping pelican came around the other side and snapped at the fish thief's butt, snorting, and Sören had another gigglefit and ended up snorting too. Anthony loved it when Sören did that - he found Sören's dorkiness endearing, it had been one of the things he'd missed the most - and other people watching the birds realized Sören made that noise, which made Sören laugh even harder, snorting more. One of the pelicans ran to the fence and gave Sören a funny look, and Sören lost it, leaning on Anthony, shaking, wheezing.  
  
The pelicans continued catching fish in their beaks and using their beaks to scoop up fish from the ground, and some of them chased the others until they were placated with fish, while others circled around the birdkeeper in a snorting, grunting frenzy that reminded Anthony of a cat circling around its owner opening a can of food. He wished he had a cat, too, and he thought of Tobias, and the look of joy on Sören's face when Sören had pet the tuxedo cat in front of him last week.  
  
Sören had a look of joy on his face now. One of the things that Anthony loved about Sören was how he lived with intensity, and drank deep of experiences. Anthony could tell Sören was taking it all in now - the scenic beauty of the lake, the hilarity of the pelicans. Sören almost seemed to glow, appreciating the sights in front of him, and Anthony basked in it; his life had been so cold without that radiance.  
  
When pelican feeding time was over, Sören and Anthony looked for a good spot to sit down for their picnic. Anthony headed in the direction of benches. "I know it seems weird to have me sit on a bench if you're sitting on a blanket in the grass, but it's easier for me to get up from a bench than the ground," Anthony said, face burning, wishing once again he didn't have his mobility issues.  
  
"It's not that weird. I mean, if you're more comfortable that way. I _can_ help you up if you want to sit on the blanket with me, though," Sören said. "It's up to you."  
  
Anthony worried that it was going to look really awkward when Sören helped him up from the ground, even moreso than the awkward way he got in and out of cars, and while he knew Sören most likely wouldn't mind, Anthony still minded, wanting to cling to what was left of his pride. "I'll sit on the bench for now," he said, "if that's OK."  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
Sören took off his backpack, pulled out a blanket, and spread it out on the ground in front of the bench. Then he unloaded the cooler. He had brought bottled water and a few cans of San Pellegrino - lemon and blood orange.  
  
There were two types of sandwiches. One had pesto, sweet sopressata and prosciutto, sliced mozzarella and provolone, fresh basil leaves on ciabatta bread. The other had chicken, bacon, avocado, and fresh spinach leaves on French bread. Nicholas had also made a salad with kale, corn, chickpeas, quinoa, blueberries, cucumber, pumpkin seeds, cilantro and feta cheese. For dessert, there were fresh strawberries - Sören's favorite, but then Anthony supposed Nicholas had learnt that well over the last five months.  
  
"Good lord," Anthony said. "And he teaches Classics, he wasn't a pro chef?"  
  
Sören chuckled. "He really likes to cook, it's one of his passions." The naughty look on Sören's face told Anthony all about Nicholas being passionate, and Anthony's face was on fire now, not wanting to think about Sören and Nicholas having sex, though the thought titillated him - infuriatingly so. He didn't want to like the other man, let alone find him attractive.  
  
"You're a pretty good cook too," Anthony said, feeling wistful for when Sören used to cook for them... not that his mother's cooking was bad, far from it. But Sören had enjoyed "playing house", or at least he had until the end, when he was running himself into the ground working a hundred hours a week; Anthony felt that stab that he still wasn't much of a cook, and he hadn't done more to help when Sören was drowning.  
  
"I help sometimes! And sometimes Nick and I cook together. I was actually gonna make food for the picnic myself, but Nick wanted to do something nice." Their eyes met, and Sören gave Anthony a pointed look.  
  
That did in fact mean Nicholas was trying, and that was heartening, though Anthony still felt reserve about trying to become friendly with Sören's partner. "That was indeed very generous of him."  
  
"He thought about making another appetizer but I told him to not go overboard," Sören said. "As it is, I don't know if we can finish all this food here, I may have to take leftovers to work. Though, uh, you're welcome to take some too."  
  
"Thank you," Anthony said. "I have physical therapy tomorrow and I'm always famished afterwards."  
  
"I bet. Sometimes when I have followups with spinal surgery patients they tell me about their physical therapy and it sounds pretty tough." Sören passed him a can of San Pellegrino. "But it seems like you're making good progress."  
  
"Some days it doesn't feel like it." Anthony frowned.  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ You're too hard on yourself."  
  
"It's just frustrating," Anthony said. "This is the new normal now. I miss being able to walk longer distances. I miss being able to run. I miss being able to _drive_ without having an anxiety attack as soon as I get behind the wheel." He frowned harder. "Jesus, I'm a fucking downer. I'm sorry."  
  
Sören got on his knees, scooted closer, and silenced him with a kiss. Then he shoved a sandwich at Anthony. "Eat."  
  
They ate in companionable silence for awhile; the food was as good as it looked, if not better. Anthony was once again touched by Nicholas wanting to make a show of good will towards Sören's old-and-new-again partner. But then, a few bites into his salad, he had a disturbing thought, wondering if Sören had told Nicholas about the end of the relationship and that he didn't cook much, and if this were a thinly veiled display of dominance, as if Nicholas had made food for Sören to take on the picnic as a way of saying _I can take care of Sören better than you._  
  
Anthony hated that he was even thinking like that, but there it was.  
  
Anthony tried to snap himself out of that, glancing around the park, which was so green on a July afternoon, the sky so blue, with perfect, fluffy white clouds. He watched the pelicans in their enclosure, some of them sailing serenely on the lake. It was a gorgeous day, and Sören was gorgeous as he enjoyed the food and the beauty of their surroundings, that look of happiness on his face again that made Anthony's heart melt... and made Anthony want to eat _him_.  
  
He was really hoping that he wouldn't have to wait too much longer to make love to Sören. He would wait months if he had to, so long as he could have Sören in his life, but just the same...  
  
...That longing intensified when it was time for dessert. Sören came closer and began doing "the airplane" with forkfuls of cake, making them both laugh, and Anthony decided to just let Sören help him up later and got down on the blanket with Sören, so he could feed Sören too. Then they fed each other strawberries when the cake was gone, and Anthony felt like he was going to explode with sexual frustration when Sören licked and sucked the strawberry juices off Anthony's fingers and thumb.  
  
They kissed once the strawberries were gone, and Anthony found himself sucking on Sören's lower lip, cock stirring when he heard Sören moan. His mind raced with fantasies of the two of them taking turns sucking each other, taking turns inside each other, their bodies writhing together, Sören's moans louder and louder as Anthony brought him to climax. Anthony shivered despite the warmth of the July sun, aching to feel Sören's naked flesh against his.  
  
They nuzzled, and then Sören pulled Anthony down on the blanket with him so they were laying together side by side. Sören came closer, and they took turns holding each other - first, Anthony's head on Sören's chest, with Sören stroking and petting his hair, rubbing his shoulders and back, while Anthony listened to Sören's heartbeat, felt every breath, and felt like he had come home. A little while later, Anthony rolled onto his side, pulled Sören into his chest and played with his curls, rubbed his nose in them, breathing in the scent of him, ready to cry all over again at how Sören felt in his arms, how _right_ this was, how much he'd missed just holding Sören, cuddling and snuggling him, which he liked just as much as sex. Which he'd craved just as much as making love to Sören.  
  
It was warm enough that Sören wanted another cold drink, and sat up, reaching into the cooler to grab them each another can of San Pellegrino. They leaned on each other and after a few minutes Sören said, "I have some bad news for you."  
  
 _Oh no._ Anthony's heart sank, fearing the worst, that this was going to be their last date, that Sören was just being nice to let him down gently. He braced himself.  
  
"I got my schedule," Sören said, giving a little frown. "One of our surgeons is on holiday for the next fortnight so I'm going to be working extra hours to pick up the slack."  
  
"Oh." Anthony was both relieved it wasn't what he feared, and disgruntled that Sören was going to have another bout of working even crazier hours, even if it was only going to be temporary, for two weeks rather than for over two months like the end of their relationship.  
  
Sören nodded, brow furrowed. "It happens that I have both Thursday and Friday off next week because they have to give me _some_ time off, it's the law, but because I'm going to be working long overnight shifts - like, pulling eleven PM to three PM shifts most of the time, doing emergency trauma cases that come in late at night, I'm not going to be seeing Nick much so he's asked me to reserve those two days for him and I feel like that's only fair, and Karen, Geir, and Craig all agree."  
  
"Yeah, that is fair. If we lived together, I'd..." Anthony's voice trailed off and he just nodded, feeling that bitter sting again - they _didn't_ live together. And he missed that, even as he didn't really want Sören to see how much he struggled with day-to-day activities around the house.  
  
"The next time I have off, after Thursday and Friday next week, is..." Sören pulled out his phone, pulled up his schedule, and squinted at it. "Tuesday the twenty-eighth. Which is almost two weeks from now." Sören gave him an apologetic look. "Do you have the evening free?"  
  
"I do," Anthony said, "but I have physical therapy the next day. So I have to call it an early night to be up and ready on time for that Wednesday appointment, it takes me awhile to get ready in the morning." He hated how long it took him to get ready nowadays.  
  
"OK." Sören nodded. "Well, better an early night than no time?"  
  
" _Yes_." Anthony was a little embarrassed by how vehement that was, but close to two weeks felt like an eternity.  
  
"You can still call me," Sören said, "and I'll call you, and, ah... if you can somehow make it to the National when I'm on break..." Sören pursed his lips. "I don't know how you feel about taking a cab or getting your mum to bring you _just_ to go there to see me for an hour and go back, though -"  
  
"Well, it's not something I can do every day, but going for a full two weeks without seeing you sounds like torture so I'm sure I can squeeze it in once or twice." Immediately at "squeeze it in" Anthony's mind went into the gutter, thinking about being inside Sören and vice versa, and the pink on Sören's cheeks and the way Sören bit his lower lip let Anthony know Sören was thinking it too.  
  
Sure enough, Sören leered and said, "I think you squeezed it in more than once or twice, Anthony."  
  
"God," Anthony said, shaking his head, chuckling. "You're incorrigible."  
  
" _Takk._ Great minds, and all."  
  
Anthony's face was on fire and he knew Sören could tell he was blushing.  
  
Then Sören pulled him into a fierce, tight hug. "Thank you for understanding about my schedule. I'm really sorry that -"  
  
"Shhhhh." Anthony kissed the tip of his nose. "I know. I mean, at least it's only temporary."  
  
"Thank fuck for that. I don't want a repeat of 2013 anytime soon."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony winced. Those last few months had been a special kind of hell, with Sören pulling a hundred hours a week.  
  
"You're not getting rid of me so easily," Sören said, rocking him.  
  
Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder, grateful for the reassurance. He still felt like he didn't deserve this, after what he did, but he couldn't go without it, either. Losing Sören had plunged him into darkness, and getting him back was like seeing the sun, seeing what colors were again, seeing the world anew.  
  
And the way Anthony loved Sören terrified him, feeling like he was flying too close to the sun. But he could love Sören less, no more than he could stop breathing. If anything, he loved Sören even more now that he had been lost and found; he was falling in love with Sören all over again.


	8. The Hunger

Tuesday the twenty-eighth of July finished off a long stretch of Sören working nightmarish hours while one of the surgeons was on holiday. He'd had off Thursday and Friday the twenty-third and twenty-fourth, which he'd spent with Nicholas, catching up on sleep and snuggling and sex, but he still felt exhausted despite the rare gift of two days off in a row, and that exhaustion intensified over Saturday and Sunday. He'd worked overnight shift on Monday starting at seven PM, and went home at nine AM, where he promptly set the alarm for late afternoon and crashed.  
  
Nicholas woke him up before the alarm did, peppering his face with sweet, soft little kisses. Sören giggled and rubbed noses with him, and reached out to wrap his arms around him. He stretched and grumbled, and grumbled again when he looked at the clock. It said something about Sören's love for Anthony that Sören was willing to give him tonight, and see him a little earlier - six PM - since Anthony had to get up early tomorrow for physical therapy. Sören had tomorrow off, and could have gone with a date later in the evening himself; it would have been better for sleeping in.  
  
"Hello, sweetheart." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose and stroked his face, love shining in his dark eyes. Sören loved the way Nicholas smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Nicholas skritched Sören's beard like a cat, making him giggle again, and then Tobias hopped on the bed with a "Prrrp?" and began to headbutt Sören's face. Sören laughed harder and reached to stroke the cat, whose tail went high in the air in response.  
  
"I thought about just letting you sleep until the alarm went off, but when I came up to check on you, you looked so sweet I couldn't resist," Nicholas said.  
  
"S'OK," Sören said, his voice husky with sleep. "This is a much nicer way to wake up than the alarm, anyway."  
  
Sören kissed him back. What was meant to be a gentle, chaste kiss quickly deepened, their lips parting, tongues playing together. Sören moaned into the kiss, a frisson through him. Unfortunately, he had just over an hour to get ready for his date with Anthony, and he didn't want to get too worked up - he liked to take a long time when he and Nicholas made love, they'd need longer than an hour, and Sören didn't want to get even more sexually frustrated in Anthony's presence than he already was.  
  
Sensing that need in him, Nicholas pulled back, a bit reluctantly, giving Sören a wolfish look before he straightened his posture, attempting to pull himself together, breathing a little harder. Sören couldn't resist a grin; he didn't want Nicholas to be sexually frustrated either but it pleased him that Nicholas was turned on, especially when Sören knew he looked a sight, all rumpled from sleep.  
  
"I'll make coffee while you shower," Nicholas said.  
  
"OK, Daddy." Sören sat up, kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose, and patted him. "Thank you for taking such good care of me."  
  
Nicholas smiled indulgently and tousled Sören's hair, already mussed from sleep. "You're a good boy."  
  
Sören bit back a groan. _He_ had _to call me that,_ Sören thought, cock throbbing, wanting to shove Nicholas down and ride his daddy until tomorrow morning. As Nicholas got up, Sören tried not to watch the taut, firm ass, the powerful way the older man moved, like he owned a room.  
  
When Sören stepped into the shower he was rock-hard and dripping precum, and he decided to give himself some relief to take the edge off with being around Anthony, stroking himself thinking about riding Nicholas, then riding Anthony, then riding Nicholas again, then Anthony again, which quickly turned into a forbidden fantasy of having a threesome with them, all three of them kissing, caressing, pleasuring each other, sucking and fucking, and Sören came so hard he had to lean against the wall to not fall over in the shower. He sprayed the shower wall with enough cum that he needed to rinse it off before he got out. After his shower, Sören needed to sit, closing the toilet seat and sitting on top of the seat on a towel, letting himself catch his breath, his head spinning, still shaking from the force of his release, so powerful it surprised him and was even a little frightening.  
  
Sören desperately tried to shake the fantasy from his mind as he got dressed. He knew Nicholas and Anthony were wary of each other, and Sören didn't want to make them uncomfortable by bringing up the idea that they should all fuck. But he couldn't help feeling a sting of bitterness as he wondered what things would have been like if he'd met Nicholas much sooner, while he was still with Anthony, and if Sören had suggested Nicholas as their third. Nicholas would have gladly helped with cooking while Sören was running himself into the ground during the two-plus months he was working hundred-hour weeks, and Nicholas could have taken care of Anthony's needs. _He would have told Anthony to ditch those assholes he called "friends"._  
  
Sören sighed, blinking back tears. The thought that he and Anthony might never have broken up if Nicholas had been their third _hurt_. He realized he wanted to share his life with both of them, and he wanted them to love each other, too. But he knew that couldn't be forced, and already they were coming out of the gate with Nicholas not entirely trusting Anthony, and Anthony seeming to be just a little jealous of Nicholas - Sören knew this couldn't be easy for Anthony, being such an alpha, to have to share Sören with so many partners and see him only occasionally.  
  
 _This is a hot fucking mess._  
  
Sören wondered if he was being fair to Anthony, if he should encourage Anthony to move on rather than live for what little bit of time Sören could spare him. And yet, the thought of letting Anthony go tore at Sören's heart, unbearable, threatening to send him over the edge crying all over again. He needed Anthony in his life, selfish or not.  
  
Sören managed to calm himself down, using the same techniques as when he had nerves before surgery - slow, deep breathing, counting, visualizing. He focused on choosing something to wear for the date. He and Anthony were going to Greenleaf again - Tuesday night was open mic night, so they expected to hear slam poetry and maybe a couple of musicians. Since it was just Greenleaf, Sören didn't have to dress up, something he was grateful for, and decided on dark indigo jeans and his Joy Division shirt. Even though it was casual, everyday apparel, it wasn't as effortless as it seemed - Sören had spent time deciding which jeans and which T-shirt - and then Sören returned to the bathroom to fix his hair, which was yet more care. The hair was one of his vanities, and it was something Anthony loved about him.  
  
When Sören was ready, he went downstairs. Nicholas was starting dinner, which smelled delicious, and Sören felt a brief pang; the food at Greenleaf wasn't bad, but he loved Nicholas's cooking. Then he felt a sharper pang, wishing Anthony could come for dinner some evening.  
  
Nicholas acknowledged Sören's entrance with a little kiss and poured him a fresh, hot cup of coffee, fixing it the way Sören liked it - light cream, three sugars. Sören accepted the cup with a " _takk_ " and sat down on the couch, checking his cell phone. Elaine was coming to pick him up, and she was usually prompt if not a bit early, but he still had a little time. Tobias hopped on the couch with a "Prrrp?" and climbed onto Sören, who chuckled, stroking the cat.  
  
"Forgive me prying, but what do you have planned for this evening?" Nicholas's eyebrows went up. "I'm merely curious."  
  
"Hi Merely Curious."  
  
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose, gave Sören a look - Sören stuck his tongue out at him and took a sip of his coffee. While Nicholas of course knew Sören was going out tonight, Sören didn't bring up the details of the date unless he was asked, not wanting to make Nicholas uncomfortable. Sören didn't know if it was a good sign or not that Nicholas was curious enough to ask.  
  
"We're going to Greenleaf. It's a short walk from his house. Er, his parents' house."  
  
Nicholas nodded. "A bookstore is a fine choice."  
  
Sören nodded too. "I think he'd like The Raven's Roost, but..." Sören stopped himself from finishing the sentence, holding back the words _I don't want you to feel like he's trespassing on your territory, or for him to feel that way, either._  
  
Nicholas, though, seemed to know what Sören wasn't going to say. "I shan't take offense if you'd like to bring him to The Raven's Roost sometime. Perhaps you and he could even join Karen and myself for breakfast on a Saturday morning."  
  
Sören's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe Nicholas was offering, and he resisted the urge to slam his coffee cup down, run across the flat and hug Nicholas tight. "That's... that's very nice of you," Sören said.  
  
Nicholas simply nodded. A moment later he joined Sören on the couch with coffee of his own. He put his cup down on the coffee table; Tobias walked across Nicholas's lap to sniff the coffee and made his "stink face", which Nicholas chuckled at before Tobias walked back, finding a way to lay across both of them, purring hard. Sören and Nicholas stroked the cat together before Nicholas took Sören's hand. "Sören, dear," Nicholas started.  
  
Sören's heart skipped a beat. He knew this was either an announcement or a request, though Nicholas knew that any requested changes to Sören's plans had to be made further in advance, not sprung right before the date.  
  
"Do you happen to have an idea of what time you're coming back?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Probably sometime between nine and ten. Anthony has physical therapy tomorrow so he has to get up early, which means an early night."  
  
Nicholas nodded again, and then his eyes met Sören's. "If you wanted to spend the night, I shan't object."  
  
Sören's jaw dropped again, and he quickly closed it, giving a nervous little clear of his throat. Once again, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean..." He cleared his throat again. "To sleep, or..."  
  
"Well, I suppose, but." Nicholas took a deep breath, his cheeks turning pink. "I'm at a place now where if you wish to resume... physical... intimacy with him, I'm fine with it."  
  
"You're sure."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're absolutely, positively sure."  
  
Nicholas kissed Sören's hand and put it to his heart. "I wouldn't tell you I was fine with it if I wasn't, my love."  
  
Sören's other hand put down the coffee cup, then he threw his arms around Nicholas and kissed him hard. As delicious as the kiss was, and as close to Nicholas as Sören felt in that moment - loving him so fiercely it hurt - the kiss was also a bad idea, getting Sören worked up and breathless all over again. Before Sören could maul him, his cell phone went off; Nicholas watched with an amused little smirk on his face, eyes twinkling, as Sören fumbled for the phone, hands trembling.  
  
It was Elaine. She was fifteen minutes early. "Hello?"  
  
"We're outside, dear."  
  
"OK. I'm going down." _Mind, gutter._ Sören shoved away the mental image of sucking Nicholas's cock... then sucking Anthony's cock - then having both their cocks in his mouth at the same time as his partners kissed and caressed each other. "See you in a minute."  
  
Sören hit End and said, "Fuck."  
  
Nicholas chuckled, but his blush was deeper now.  
  
Sören chugged down the rest of his coffee, and then after giving Tobias some pets and kisses, Nicholas led him out. Nicholas held onto him in the flat, rubbing his nose in Sören's curls, and Sören focused on the safety of being in Nicholas's arms, feeling his heartbeat, feeling the strong wall of his chest. When the lift chimed and the doors opened, Sören stepped out and blew a kiss over his shoulder.  
  
"Remember, if you decide to stay the night, that's all right with me," Nicholas said. "I'd appreciate you calling me by nine-thirty so I know either way, that way I can go with you in the lift."  
  
"Oh, Nick." Sören felt that warm, fuzzy feeling and the fierce ache - he loved Nicholas so much. Sören turned around, crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, and nodded. "I'll do that, yes." Then he blew Nicholas double kisses, waving as he walked backwards towards the lobby doors. Nicholas chuckled and gave a little wave, turning pink again, before the lift doors closed.  
  
_  
  
  
Elaine's Aston Martin was outside. Sören waved as he approached the car, and climbed in the back.  
  
Anthony was wearing light blue jeans and a sky blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up. Sören once again saw the fine scarring on Anthony's forearms from the accident - and the hair on his arms, no longer waxing - and Sören wanted to rain kisses over his scars, hug him tight and tell Anthony how grateful he was that Anthony was still alive, how beautiful he still was, but Sören just cleared his throat and gave a shy little smile. "Hi, _elskan._ "  
  
"Hi, Brown Eyes." Anthony kissed Sören's cheek - Sören knew he wanted to do more, but Elaine was watching from the rearview mirror. But just Anthony calling him Brown Eyes, like the old days, sent Sören's heart racing, stomach fluttering, feeling like he could dance.  
  
"Hi, Sören," Elaine said. "How are you? I bet you're tired after all that extra work, poor dear."  
  
"Tired would be an understatement," Sören said. "I'm so glad I have tomorrow off."  
  
Sören wasn't just tired, he was horny, and the warmth and proximity of Anthony, the faint whiff of Anthony's cologne, didn't help. Still, Sören rested his head on Anthony's shoulder and Anthony put an arm around him, rubbing Sören's shoulder, stroking his curls, on the ride into Blackheath.  
  
Outside of Greenleaf, Elaine asked, "What time shall I pick you up?"  
  
"Mum, it's a short walk," Anthony said, a touch of irritation in his voice.  
  
"Yes, but I didn't know how late you intended on staying, if Sören is going straight back or not -"  
  
"Open mic starts at seven, I thought maybe we'd leave around eight-thirty or nine, and then have a cup of tea in the greatroom before you drive Sören back," Anthony said.  
  
Sören nodded. "That sounds good." _You and your tea. The more things change, the more they stay the same..._  
  
Elaine raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. "And you're sure you want to walk back -"  
  
" _Mother._ " Anthony looked so mortified that Sören tried not to laugh; he also felt for Anthony, knowing he was probably embarrassed, and Sören didn't want to make that discomfort worse.  
  
Sören gave him a reassuring pat. "So no need to pick us up. You can still drive me back after, ah, our tea." _If I'm going home tonight or not._ Sören wondered how Anthony would react to the news.  
  
Sören helped Anthony out of the car - who still looked mortified, though his expression softened when Sören pulled him close and gave him a little kiss. "Now you get a proper hug," Sören said, arms tight around him, rocking him.  
  
"God, I've missed this," Anthony said, snuggling into Sören's shoulder for a moment. Sören could feel Anthony breathing him in, and Sören sighed too - he'd missed this himself, it had been like a limb cut off, a piece of his soul missing.  
  
They held each other for a long moment, then Sören put an arm around him and they went into the bookstore together, Anthony limping along on his cane. Every now and again Anthony gave a self-conscious little frown and Sören had to stop himself from pausing in his tracks, shaking Anthony and yelling at him _YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TO ME AND I LOVE YOU, STOP WORRYING ABOUT HOW I SEE YOU_ but he knew that would make a scene and that was the opposite of what Anthony wanted right now. Sören just hoped that one of these days, Anthony wouldn't feel so awkward about being in public with his cane.  
  
They had a few minutes before open mic started, so they got a table in the cafe. This time Sören had chicken salad wraps and a garden salad, while Anthony went with a shooter's sandwich. Sören eyed it. "That looks almost like a Beef Wellington," Sören said.  
  
"It is, just with bread rather than pastry." Anthony raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you'd had Beef Wellington."  
  
"Jæja, there's a place not far from home, Balthazar... Nick and I have gone there and we get the Beef Wellington for two." As soon as the words were out of Sören's mouth he regretted it, not wanting to hit a nerve for Anthony about his live-in relationship.  
  
Anthony seemed to notice the sudden awkwardness and gave Sören a reassuring smile, though it was tight. "You should try this next time we come here," Anthony said.  
  
"I will. It looks good."  
  
"I feel rather bad you never tried Beef Wellington while..." Anthony's voice trailed off.  
  
"It's all right." Sören kicked him under the table, then slid his boot up Anthony's calf, giving him a naughty look over his tube-shaped chicken salad wrap. He needed to offset the sudden awkwardness with levity. "We were focused on eating other things." Sören took a suggestive lick at the excess chicken salad spilling out of the wrap before fitting the tip of the wrap in his mouth to take his first bite.  
  
Anthony had just taken a bite of his sandwich, and he facepalmed, trying not to splutter, shaking with silent laughter. "Goddammit, Sören..."  
  
"So what is that called... a _shooter's_ sandwich?" Sören waggled his eyebrows.  
  
Their eyes met across the table. Anthony shook his head, his face beetroot, green eyes dancing, and he started laughing all over again as he sipped his bottled water. "You are the worst."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
Anthony reached out to stroke Sören's hand, and just that little touch sent electricity through Sören, his cock stirring, craving more.  
  
Sören had not been to an open mic event since he lived in Reykjavik, and he felt a twinge of nostalgia for those days. He'd been loath to return to Iceland after his drink was spiked with rohypnol one night, not long after his sister's murder. And yet, he did still get homesick, and this was one of those times, thinking about when he used to go to open mic nights, hoping that he'd get inspired to start writing poetry again. But the words hadn't come back, even at this stage in his life when all was full of love, and he had too many feelings.  
  
Once again, Sören was intimidated by the poetry of others, some of the poems moving him to tears, though he didn't let himself cry in public, not wanting to make a scene and distract from the people at the mic. Even when the poetry was not so good, Sören still admired the poets for effort. He loved to see creativity expressed in other people, he felt people _needed_ a creative outlet regardless of their level of talent. _The flame must burn._  
  
What Sören especially loved was when musicians took the mic. There was a flautist who performed a couple of songs. There was a young woman with an acoustic guitar who had a folksy style reminiscent of Jewel, and even though it wasn't Sören's thing he still gave encouraging applause, once again appreciating the effort and the expression. But the best of all was a beautiful dark-skinned man with waist-length dreadlocks, who sat down with an acoustic guitar and performed a couple of original songs with a voice as lovely as his face, a smooth, rich tenor. Then he began taking requests from the audience.  
  
Anthony shyly raised his hand and the musician called on him. "Can you play 'Live Forever' by Oasis?"  
  
Sören laughed, face on fire. He wasn't surprised Anthony had chosen something from his teenage years, or a song that had been meaningful to their relationship while they were together - one of many. But he was still surprised just the same, that Anthony had been willing to put aside his self-consciousness and desire to fade into the background with his cane, to request the song... and he was touched. As the man began to strum his guitar, Sören and Anthony's gaze met across the table, and the sweet smile on Anthony's face took Sören's breath away. Sören reached for Anthony's hands, and squeezed.  
  
It was also delightful to hear the way the song sounded very different in the musician's bluesy, soulful voice, the song re-imagined as R&B or acid jazz. The musician encouraged the audience to sing along with the chorus:  
  
 _Maybe I just wanna fly  
Wanna live, I don't wanna die  
Maybe I just wanna breathe  
Maybe I just don't believe  
Maybe you're the same as me  
We see things they'll never see  
You and I are gonna live forever_  
  
Overcome with emotion, Sören had to request a song too. "'Cherish the Day' by Sade?"  
  
Anthony turned beetroot again, a reaction Sören found charming and adorable... as well as arousing. The musician's sultry voice crooning was at least as sexy as when Sade sang it, if not moreso. Sören began to play footsie with Anthony under the table.  
  
 _You show me how deep love can be  
  
You're ruling the way that I move  
And I breathe your air  
You only can rescue me  
This is my prayer  
  
I cherish the day  
I won't go astray  
I won't be afraid  
You won't catch me running_  
  
By the time the song was over, Sören's mind was racing with dirty thoughts again. He looked at the clock and it was close to eight-forty-five. "Should we go?" Sören asked Anthony.  
  
Anthony just nodded.  
  
They walked back to Anthony's parents' house hand-in-hand, then arm-in-arm. It took Sören all he had not to pull Anthony into the grass and rut with him right there, like an animal. There was something about sharing the experience of poetry and music together - two things that made Sören _feel_ \- that was incredibly intimate, and Sören ached to be even closer to him, skin to skin, one inside the other, the two of them holding each other. A small part of him cautioned that this was too soon, they had only been seeing each other again for just shy of a month, it wasn't enough time to prove that Anthony had changed. But Sören _wanted_ , and that want grew even stronger as they paused for a moment for Anthony to rest, and their eyes met, and Sören got lost in those beautiful green eyes.  
  
Back at Anthony's parents' house, Anthony made them tea - he insisted on doing it himself, and Sören knew he needed to, for his pride. They sat out in the garden together, since it was a warm night, and the sun was just starting to set. Sören leaned on Anthony, watching the fire in the sky, orange and pink blazing across muted blue. The night was almost close to perfect; it would be even moreso if they made love.  
  
"We should do it again," Sören said, and immediately his mind went even deeper into the gutter and he quickly clarified, "Open mic night."  
  
"We should." Anthony nodded. He gave a little smile. "Thank you for sharing that with me."  
  
"Thank _you_ for sharing that with _me._ But then, I suppose a mutual love of poetry is part of how we bonded, when this was all new."  
  
Their gaze held. "I miss that." Then Anthony chuckled. "I've always quoted other people's poetry to you, because I don't write my own."  
  
"I don't either. I used to, but... Einar and Katrín happened." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering the sick, helpless, powerless feeling he had as his aunt ripped pages out of his notebooks and threw them away, calling his writing "trash". "I mean, they destroyed my art too and I was able to keep going with that, but my poetry was something else. It was like they stole the words from me."  
  
Anthony put his tea down and put his arms around Sören. He rubbed his nose in Sören's curls, kissed the top of Sören's head, and then he tilted Sören's face to his, letting Sören see the pain in his eyes. "I hate that they did that to you."  
  
Anthony stroked Sören's cheek, then his thumb traced Sören's lips, still looking into his eyes. Sören melted into his touch. Then Sören watched Anthony look up, close his eyes with a sharp exhale, and look back into Sören's eyes, Anthony's green eyes too bright with unshed tears. "When I was a boy I wrote poetry. It wasn't very good."  
  
"Teenage poetry rarely is. Mine was shit too."  
  
Anthony gave a little laugh, and then he sobered and went on, "It was one of the things I got bullied about in school, so I stopped. I still read poetry. I admire the ability to express oneself like that. But I don't think I can write it anymore. It's like those idiots stole the words from me too."  
  
Sören knew Anthony had been bullied when he was at school - Elaine had told him the story of how Anthony had been chased up into a tree by a mob of boys he couldn't outrun, and fell out of the tree and broke his left femur. But this was new information, and it somehow hit Sören even harder than knowing Anthony had been teased about being a star pupil, needing glasses, once having a stutter, various odd quirks like being fidgety, being called a mummy's boy. There was something about mocking someone else's creative expression and trying to silence them that made Sören _furious_ , and he found his fists clenching, wishing he could go back in time and put the fear of God in those brats, not that he believed in anything. Sören's arms tightened around Anthony and he rained kisses over Anthony's face. "I am so, so sorry. Jesus, Anthony, that's fucking terrible."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony sniffled. "It seems so stupid, being sad about it now. I'm a barrister, not a poet. Well... was a barrister."  
  
"Still are. You're just on medical leave -"  
  
Anthony gave him a look as if to say _I don't know when I'll be able to return, or if_. Sören wasn't going to argue with him about getting back to work, though he had a feeling that Anthony not working was enough of a blow to his pride to negatively affect his mental health, and it seemed like Anthony needed to be encouraged to eventually go back to Lincoln's Inn. But then Sören followed up his statement with "You're still a poet, too. We both are. We just..." Sören sighed. "Haven't found our way back to the words, yet."  
  
"I think it's probably a lost cause, for me."  
  
"Maybe. Maybe not." Sören frowned. "I got really mad at myself about it in my twenties, like _you come from an entire country of poets, Iceland was founded on a rich poetic tradition, what's wrong with you?_ The land sings in our souls... the northern lights, the volcanoes, the fjords, the long winter nights and the endless light of summer. But I haven't been able to play that song in what feels like ages. I suppose it comes out through my art, a picture is worth a thousand words and all, but even so."  
  
"I bet your poetry would be as lovely as your art, if you started again." Anthony was stroking Sören's lips with his thumb again.  
  
"It feels like there's never any time. I barely have time to do my art." As soon as those words were out of his mouth, Sören regretted it, not wanting Anthony to feel like their relationship was some sort of massive inconvenience and he resented the time juggling his partners took away from personal hobbies. He needed his art, but he needed Anthony more. He had a twinge, remembering the fight they had on the day Sören left. _You love your art more than me._ Sören wished Anthony knew that wasn't the case at all - it was Sören's love for Anthony that had inspired him to great works; Anthony had been his muse. His magnificent obsession. Sören's cheeks flushed, thinking about the erotic paintings he'd made of them, and wondered about painting more once he had time.  
  
Anthony gave a little sigh, but before Sören could feel guilty and start explaining that sounded worse than how he intended it, Anthony said, "How about next time you and I get together... you bring your tablet, and take some time to draw or paint?"  
  
Sören's eyes widened and his lips parted with a little gasp. "Anthony. That's very... unselfish of you. You know how lost I get when I..."  
  
"I like watching you." Then Sören realized Anthony's own mind went in the gutter as his cheeks flushed and he bit his lower lip before grinning. "And I like seeing you make art, too."  
  
Sören gave him a playful swat on the arm. Anthony laughed and kissed the tip of Sören's nose, and Sören laughed too. Then Anthony said, "Besides, a cozy night here would be nice and relaxing. And Mum's been hounding me to invite you to dinner so she can cook for you and fuss over you."  
  
"OK." Sören smiled and pet Anthony's face, rubbed his shoulder. "We can do that next time, then."  
  
"Brilliant." Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose again. "When's the next night you have free?"  
  
Sören pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked his schedule. "Next Tuesday. A week from today." He saw Anthony looking at the schedule too, and knew Anthony saw that Sören also had Sunday free. Sören quickly explained, "Sunday nights are usually reserved. That's family dinner time, when Geir and Karen and Ben and Pierre and Craig come over..."  
  
"I see." Anthony smiled, but it did not meet his eyes; it was the courtroom smile. "That sounds nice."  
  
Sören knew then he'd hit a nerve without meaning to, and he realized it wasn't so much because he wasn't reserving the first available evening for Anthony - though he knew there was maybe some of that too - but because he had a group of friends now and Anthony didn't.  
  
Anthony sighed then, as if he knew Sören had picked up on that. "I'm sorry," Anthony said. "I want to be happy for you... I always felt bad that you didn't have a social life, and I did, when we were together. It still feels... odd that our situations are reversed."  
  
"I'm sorry too," Sören said, stroking Anthony's chin. "People need people. I don't like you being without friends, either."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony looked down.  
  
Sören thought about inviting him to Sunday night dinner, but that was something he was going to have to discuss with Nicholas, and it was enough that Nicholas was permitting them to sleep together again. Sören didn't want to make the mistake Anthony had made, where Anthony had pushed his friends on Sören and they hadn't clicked, not just for Anthony's sake, but for Nicholas's. Yet, Sören couldn't shake the feeling that Anthony _would_ fit in with his chosen family, and it would be good for all of them. Sören knew Anthony and Karen were on the way to becoming friends... "You should get together with Karen again sometime soon," Sören said.  
  
"I don't want to be a pain."  
  
"You last spent time with her what, a month ago? I hardly call that being a pain."  
  
Anthony made a noncommittal noise and Sören realized this was an uncomfortable enough subject for Anthony that Sören should drop it, so he did. "What time on Tuesday?" Sören asked.  
  
"Six again? I don't have physical therapy next Wednesday, it's Monday and Thursday next week, so we can do a later night, but this way we can start eating dinner by seven, because my dad _does_ prefer going to bed early and won't want to eat too late."  
  
"OK. Speaking of a later night..." Sören took Anthony's hands, deciding now was the right time to tell him. "Nick told me that if we want to, um... start sleeping together again, it's OK with him."  
  
Anthony's eyebrows shot up, and the look of surprise on his face was chased by unmistakable relief.  
  
"So..." Sören's fingers started walking down Anthony's chest, and he resisted the urge to begin unbuttoning Anthony's shirt. "Do I still need to go home tonight, or..."  
  
"God." Anthony laughed, and then he sighed. "Unfortunately, I do really need to get up early tomorrow. If I let you spend the night, if we go there..." Anthony shook his head. He moved in closer, hand resting on Sören's heart, his breath against Sören's neck as he whispered, "I want to tease you for hours."  
  
"Oh, fuck."  
  
To prove his point, Anthony began to kiss and lick down Sören's neck. A shiver went down Sören's spine, his cock leaping to attention, and the whimper that came out of Sören's mouth made him almost ashamed, but he was too turned on to care. Anthony's kisses trailed back up, and he kissed along Sören's jaw, as the hand on Sören's chest strayed so his fingers rubbed a nipple through the fabric of Sören's shirt. "I don't feel like I could give you the time you properly deserve, tonight."  
  
"Dammit, Anthony..."  
  
Anthony chuckled before he claimed Sören's mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that made Sören want to shove him into the flowerbed and ride him. But the sensual way their tongues played together made Sören think of the times they'd made love more slowly, gently, building up and up and up to a shattering finish, and Sören wanted that, too. He wanted everything.  
  
When they pulled apart, breathing harder, Anthony stroked Sören's face, pet his curls, and said, "Next week."  
  
"OK." Sören grinned. "Next week, we'll make up for lost time."  
  
"Really, I wish we could go on holiday. _Then_ that would be making up for lost time. Never mind hours, I want days of doing nothing but making you scream."  
  
Sören felt ready to come in his pants. He heard himself whine, and Anthony laughed, eyes wicked, before Anthony stole another kiss that left them both shaking with desire.  
  
"I better go home now," Sören said.  
  
Anthony nodded. "Before I get tempted to tell you to spend the night and cancel physical therapy tomorrow. That's a very bad idea." Anthony frowned. "Actually, I better not ride back with you, being close to you in the back seat is just going to make me hornier and I really don't want to be that way around Mum."  
  
Sören's laughter rang out. "I barely want to be that way around her myself. Maybe I should take a cab -"  
  
"Well, she'll complain if she doesn't drive you, and she won't notice much if you're in the back seat."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
Elaine was a bit puzzled by why Anthony didn't want to go on the trip back to Covent Garden, but didn't press it. Sören and Anthony hugged and exchanged a few much more chaste kisses with a promise of next Tuesday at six, and to call in the meantime, before Sören got in the back of Elaine's Aston Martin.  
  
Once they were on the road, Elaine said, "You know you can ride in the front on the passenger's side, Sören. I won't mind."  
  
"Oh, it's OK. I can zone out better back here." That wasn't entirely a lie. As much as Sören enjoyed Anthony's company and indeed, the company of all his partners and friends, this was one of the first truly alone times he'd had in awhile outside of breaks at work, where he could just rest in silence and not have to be "on" socially.  
  
Or at least, not completely. Elaine still periodically poked into his thoughts. "Did things go all right with my son this evening?"  
  
"Oh, yes. As you probably heard, we're doing this again next week. I told him I'd finally take you up on that offer of dinner."  
  
" _Wonderful._ Do you have anything in particular you'd like me to make for you?"  
  
Sören had always loved Elaine's cooking. "Surprise me."  
  
"Maybe one of these nights you could also bring over that girl Karen. It's nice that Anthony is friends with one of your partners."  
  
"Yeah, it is." Sören sighed, wishing that Anthony would in fact reach out to her more, once again aching that Anthony didn't have friends anymore. He could only imagine how lonely Anthony felt, and Sören felt a bit guilty, being the only thing Anthony really had, and not able to give all of himself. He also knew it wasn't _healthy_ , and he needed to try to encourage Anthony to come out of his shell again. But that was easier said than done.  
  
Elaine turned her attention back to the road, letting Sören have his quiet, and then as they got closer to Covent Garden, Sören's cell phone went off. As Sören took it out to answer it, he realized he was supposed to call Nicholas to let him know whether he was coming home or not, and hadn't done that and it was past nine-thirty. _Shit._ But the number wasn't Nicholas. It was Craig.  
  
Sören answered with surprise. "Craig! Hi."  
  
"Hi," Craig said. "I hope I'm not calling at a bad time -"  
  
"Not necessarily. What's going on?" A brief surge of panic; Craig normally didn't call on nights when he knew Sören wasn't working but otherwise occupied. "Are you OK?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm..." Craig's voice trailed off and Sören knew immediately Craig wasn't OK. "I needed to hear your voice, is all."  
  
Sören exhaled sharply. "Craig, seriously. Don't bullshit me, what's wrong?"  
  
"OK. I just..." Craig sighed. His voice shook a little when he resumed speaking. "I heard a song that reminded me of Emily, and it made me sad, and I had a good cry and ended up going to sleep and then... I had a nightmare. So I reached out for you..."  
  
"Ohhhh, sweetheart." Sören knew the weight behind the words: Craig had reached for Sören rather than a way to get a fix and numb the pain.  
  
"I don't want to bother you if this is a bad time -"  
  
"Well, look. I'm on my way back to Covent Garden right now. You want me to stop over and hold you for awhile?" But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sören wasn't actually thinking about just holding Craig. His body was still screaming with sexual frustration, much as he'd tried to calm down not to have tented jeans in front of Elaine. He needed to fuck. It was a win-win situation: he'd comfort Craig and get his needs met. The thought of Craig's delectable body, thrusting into the tight, wet silk of him, and those screams went straight to Sören's cock, throbbing.  
  
"That would be really nice, if you don't mind." A pause. "Maybe we could..."  
  
"Yes." Sören knew exactly what he was asking. "Yes, we will, if that's what you want."  
  
"So bad."  
  
"I'll be there soon."  
  
"OK."  
  
After Sören hit End, he hit Nicholas's number on speed dial. "I'm sorry," Sören said as soon as Nicholas answered. "I know it's a bit past nine-thirty -"  
  
"It's all right, Sören. Truth be told, I got distracted by the cat. Tobias had a hairball, so after cleaning it up, I had to administer hairball medication. I have just washed my hands..."  
  
"Oh, OK." Sören chuckled, then made a little sympathetic noise. "Poor kitty."  
  
"Don't feel too sorry for him. As you know, he quite enjoys that anti-hairball paste, he thinks it's a treat. If I didn't know better I'd think he did this deliberately to wheedle the paste out of me."  
  
Sören snorted. Then he said, "Well, I'm glad me calling a bit later than I said I would isn't a problem. I don't want you to think that you being in the loop of what's going on isn't important to me -"  
  
"Not at all, dearest."  
  
"Craig called and he's not in a good way right now so I'm going to go see him, if that's all right."  
  
There was a slight pause, then Nicholas said, "Yes. As you know, we did agree you could take two nights per week for your other partners, so this night is yours whether it's with Anthony or Craig or some combination thereof."  
  
At the words _some combination thereof_ Sören's mind went into the gutter again, this time entertaining a fantasy of a threesome with Anthony and Craig, and he shoved that thought away immediately. _Jesus Christ, what is with you?_ "OK. I still wanted to make sure because, you know."  
  
"I know. You're a good boy."  
  
Now Sören wanted Nicholas again, too. Sören tried not to bite his hand, wanting to sink his teeth into Craig's neck.  
  
Then Nicholas asked, "When you say Craig isn't in a good way..."  
  
"He had a nightmare. He fell asleep early, I guess, and..."  
  
"I see. I hope he's otherwise all right." Another pause. "I worry."  
  
Sören tried not to laugh - this wasn't a laughing matter, but Nicholas's grudging fondness for Craig, and the parental concern, was endearing. "We all worry. But I'm sure he'll be fine." _His ass won't be fine after I'm through with him, but he'll be feeling pretty good._ Sören stopped himself before his lack of filter made him blurt the words aloud.  
  
"I shall see you tomorrow, then."  
  
"You will. Good night, _elskan._ I love you."  
  
"I love you too, sweetheart. Please tell Craig I said hello and that I hope he feels better, hm?"  
  
"I will, _takk._ "  
  
Then after Sören hit End, he told Elaine, "Slight change of plans -"  
  
"Where are you going?" Elaine asked, not missing a thing.  
  
"Not far from where I live." Sören gave the address.  
  
A moment later Elaine said, "Forgive me for prying into your other relationships, but it's good of you to check on him, and I hope... your... Craig person is OK."  
  
"I hope my Craig person is OK too," Sören said, chuckling, and immediately his mind emphasized _Yes, he's_ my _Craig person. Mine._ He felt a little self-conscious, of course someone couldn't own somebody else, and yet Sören did feel a sense of ownership with him... and it was something that Craig needed.  
  
"You're such a kind, nurturing person. I know I keep saying this, but I'm very grateful and relieved that you and my son are back together. He needs you."  
  
"I need him too," Sören said. _I need to ride his cock into next week._ But also Sören felt another sharp ache, thinking about what Elaine had told him of Anthony sleeping with a picture of him under his pillow... and months ago when he'd run into Elaine at the Royal Opera House gift shop, telling him how Anthony cried about him. Sören had cried about Anthony many times over, and he still had a box that had all of Anthony's love notes, petals from flowers Anthony gave him. He still had photos of them. Sören loved Anthony fiercely, so much so that he knew how it must have been for Anthony while they were apart, and even though Anthony had fucked up, it still felt _wrong_ that they had been without each other for so long.  
  
And yet, a part of him cautioned again that this was just as wrong, to rush headlong back into things like this, like Anthony's actions had no consequence apart from that time of separation. _He destroyed your trust. For all you know, he could be contrite now because he thinks you're soft-hearted enough to take him back, and he has nothing else in his life, but as soon as he goes back to work, as soon as he has new friends... he'll take that for granted._  
  
Sören didn't want to feel like that. He thought it was grossly unfair, especially when contrasted with the mental image he had of the sweet, sensitive boy who had written poetry and was bullied for it, who still loved the poetry of others and let it express for him the things he could not express himself. He thought about Anthony playing piano - something he'd missed, and was hoping Anthony would do again for him sometime - and the vulnerability he showed. Anthony's actions in a very dark place in 2013 didn't add up with the rest of what he was, and yet...  
  
 _They call him the Shark. He will chew you up and spit you out all over again._  
  
Sören shivered, even though it wasn't cold in the car. He tried to push those fears and doubts away, wanting to believe that Anthony's repentance was sincere, and things would work out this time. He needed to think about something else. _Craig._  
  
That was another thing to worry about. Craig had been doing so well in his recovery the last few months, but Sören knew he was still fragile. They weren't so far from Covent Garden now, but every minute felt like an eternity, Sören waiting with bated breath, wanting to rush to the boy in need, make him stop hurting for awhile.  
  
_  
  
  
Sören let himself into Karen and Geir's flat with his key. Craig was staying at their place on a sofa that folded out into a bed, and he was curled up in the sofa bed under a heap of blankets, which made Sören slow down, wondering if Craig was back asleep and if he was going to disturb him. But then Craig sat up and pulled the blankets down, looking cute and a little vulnerable in a steel blue T-shirt and lighter blue plaid pajama bottoms. They just looked at each other for a moment and then Sören kicked off his Doc Martens and went right to Craig in the bed.  
  
Sören held him tight, rocking him, petting his hair. "It's all right," Sören whispered. "I'm here now. I've got you. You're safe. It's OK. It's all right."  
  
Craig clung to Sören, and started to shake with silent tears. Sören kissed his tears, rained kisses over his face. "I know," Sören said, and indeed he did, remembering that it wasn't all that long ago when he was crying in Karen's arms about Anthony after hearing a song that reminded him of his lost love. "I know."  
  
"I fucked up," Craig sobbed. "I fucked everything up."  
  
"Shhhhhhh." While it was true that Craig had made poor choices in his life, Sören didn't want to beat a dead horse right now. Craig needed comfort, not lectures over something that was in the past, that he couldn't fix. "Shhhh."  
  
"I fucked things up with Emily. I fucked up my entire life..."  
  
"You're still here, _elskan._ You're getting better. You'll find your way again."  
  
"I hurt Emily. She was willing to give me another chance after the first overdose and I completely fucking blew it... and I feel like I'm this... big... burden... on everyone." Craig snuffled. "Staying here like this on Karen and Geir's sofa. Not working, because I have too much therapy. And you... I know I interrupted you -"  
  
"Craig, it's OK." Sören kissed his brow and stroked his face. "I'm not upset with you for calling. I know you really needed someone to be there for you."  
  
"I still feel like I shouldn't have done it. And I don't want to make Nicholas upset with me -"  
  
"Well, I called him before I came here. He's worried about you too." Sören nodded, and couldn't help chuckling at the incredulous look on Craig's face.  
  
Then Sören pulled Craig close again, rocking, petting, soothing. Sören kissed Craig's tears some more, and they subsided, and then Sören continued to kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin. At last their lips met, and when their tongues played together, Sören's body reminded him of how horny he'd been awhile ago. The kiss deepened, heated, and Craig's hand strayed to the hard bulge in Sören's jeans, rubbing gently.  
  
Sören nipped Craig's lower lip with a growl, and took Craig's hand away - not that he really minded, and started kissing Craig's hand, looking into his eyes. After a minute Craig laughed, and Sören raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
"I still can't get over that Nicholas is worried too." Craig shook his head, chuckling. "I thought he hated me."  
  
"Yes, that would be why he insists you come to dinner every Sunday. He wants to feed you to literal death."  
  
Craig smiled, and Sören pinched a dimple, not able to help himself. Craig leaned into Sören's touch, cheeks pink, eyes soft. Then Sören said, "And he says hello, and hopes you feel better."  
  
"Awwww. That's..." Craig looked visibly touched, and unsure of how to respond.  
  
Sören's cock was craving more of Craig's attention. Much more. "There's someone else who wants to say hi to you."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Sören whipped it out.  
  
Craig gave Sören's cock a hungry look, and then he chuckled again. "Hello," he said, waving to Sören's cock; Sören's cock leapt as if it were waving back. They laughed together and Craig asked, "Does he have a name?"  
  
Without thinking about it, Sören responded with "Leðurblökumaðurinn."  
  
Craig laughed harder. "What?"  
  
"It's an in-joke with my ex. Well... not my ex anymore, I suppose. Anthony."  
  
"I see. What does Le..." Craig wasn't even going to try to pronounce it. "What does it mean?"  
  
"It's the Icelandic name for Batman."  
  
"Now you're taking the piss."  
  
"Go ahead and Google it," Sören said. "I'll wait." Sören handed Craig his cell phone.  
  
Sören watched with amusement - cock still standing at attention - as Craig looked it up on Google and then facepalmed when he saw Sören was right. " _Why?_ "  
  
"I told you, it's an inside joke. It doesn't make sense even when it's explained."  
  
"Well, I was asking more about why your people call Batman _that_ , but I suppose..." Craig lost it, shaking with laughter. "He sounds very interesting."  
  
"He is very interesting. It seems someone has to be interesting for me to be attracted to them beyond the physical." Sören patted Craig. "Maybe you'll get to meet him sometime." _Maybe you guys can be friends. You both need a friend._  
  
"Sometime. In the meantime..." Craig looked down at Sören's hard cock, and back up. "May I?"  
  
Sören jumped off the sofa bed and stripped down, and then got back on the sofa bed, sitting on the edge as Craig got on his knees before him. Sören sighed as Craig took the cock into his mouth, eyes locked with Sören's as he sucked slowly, worshipful.  
  
"God, you're good at this," Sören breathed, fingers in Craig's hair.  
  
"Mmmmmm."  
  
Craig sucked him slowly like that for awhile, and as badly as Sören needed relief, it was wonderful to stay in this space of being spoiled, pleasured so sweetly and sensually. He knew that it was also soothing for Craig to suck on him as well, and Sören pet him as he sucked. "Good boy," Sören heard himself saying, and the way Craig moaned in response let Sören know that it affected Craig the same way it affected Sören when Nicholas said it. "Such a good boy."  
  
"Mmmmmhmmmm. _Mmmmmmm_."  
  
When Craig started sucking harder and faster, Sören knew he wasn't going to last long, thrusting gently into Craig's mouth. "Oh god, you're gonna make me come soon," Sören warned. "Fuck, that's so good. My good boy..."  
  
"Mmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmm." Craig pulled Sören's cock out of his mouth to whisper, "I want to taste you," and gave it a few long, teasing licks, a naughty look on his face before the cock went back in his mouth. This time Craig rubbed his tongue as he sucked.  
  
Soon Sören was shuddering, panting, gasping, right on that edge. He made a deep, primal grunt as he spent into Craig's mouth, who drank all he could, swallowing down, lapping at the seed that still flowed, licking his lips before coming up to kiss Sören, taking Sören's hand and putting it on the tent in his pajamas. Sören smiled into the kiss, laughing softly.  
  
"Oh, does my boy want to come too?" Sören asked.  
  
"Please, sir."  
  
But now that some of the edge had been taken off, Sören knew Craig needed to get lost for awhile. They'd had quick fucks before - a few times, right there at the National, in a supply closet - but Sören knew Craig needed more tonight. He needed to be fucked, of course, but he also needed to be taken care of... and Sören wanted to take care of him.  
  
Sören helped Craig get undressed, and once they were naked together, Sören pulled Craig against him, knowing he needed the comfort of skin on skin. They held each other, kissing, cocks rubbing together, and Sören's hands roamed over every place of Craig's body that he could touch, wanting to pet, soothe... tease. Sören started kissing and licking Craig's neck, and just the way Craig moaned at that got Sören going again, cock throbbing, wanting to be in him. But Sören made himself take his time, wanting this to be very, very good for Craig, knowing a slow build would be a delicious payout.  
  
After they'd gotten together a few months ago, Craig started keeping a kit of supplies in a box under the coffee table for when Sören visited him. Karen and Geir had wisely not gone in the box, or so Craig claimed, even though Sören was pretty sure they had an idea of what was in it. There was, of course, a bottle of lubricant in the box. There was also a pair of handcuffs, a length of rope, and a couple of toys. Sören took out the rope now, and Craig's eyes lit up. Sören touched Craig's face, wanting to make sure he had Craig's full consent. "Yes?"  
  
"Please."  
  
Sören kissed him. "Safeword if you need it."  
  
"OK." Then Craig chuckled again.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm just glad the safeword is in English and not Icelandic."  
  
Sören laughed too. "There's a limit to my willingness to torture you. And better uses of your tongue."  
  
"It sounds beautiful when you speak it, though."  
  
"Flattery will get you everywhere." Sören grabbed Craig's arms and had Craig get into a position where his wrists could be tied comfortably as he lay supine. Then Sören began to tie Craig's wrists with the rope. "Especially all tied up like this."  
  
When Craig was tied, Sören had him test the bonds to make sure they were neither too loose nor too tight, then he took a moment to survey his handiwork, eyes drinking in the beauty of his younger man laying there with his wrists bound, looking innocent and naughty all at once. Sören's cock was ragingly hard and wanting to come again, but he really did want to spoil his boy for awhile.  
  
And that was what he did, kissing, licking, rubbing and stroking Craig all over. He spent time going back and forth between Craig's nipples, lapping and suckling one as his fingers and thumb pinched and plucked and rolled the other. He kissed and nibbled at Craig's stomach, fingers walking up and down Craig's chest and stomach, brushing with long, sensual strokes, palm caressing in lazy circles. He licked and kissed and nipped at Craig's thighs, fingers tracing lines and circles, palm playing up and down, back and forth, kissed behind the knee. He kissed his way back up, and spent more time teasing the nipples, then back down to the stomach. Craig's moans got louder, and he was looking at Sören with desperation in his eyes, like he was ready to cry all over again. Sören stopped, waiting to see if he would safeword, but Craig just begged, "Please, fuck me."  
  
Sören laughed, spread Craig's legs, and took a teasing lick around the rim of his opening. "You mean like this?" He plunged his tongue inside.  
  
The sounds Craig made as Sören's tongue lashed inside him made Sören reach down and stroke himself, not able to help it. Sören loved using his tongue on his partners and this was no exception, driving Craig mad with sensation as Sören's tongue found that sweet spot inside him and rubbed it hard and fast, then with slower, teasing strokes. Craig's cries of "oh god, more," and "fuck" and just "Sören" soon became Craig not able to make words at all, just whimpering, keening, almost sobbing. Sören had a feeling Craig was forgetting all about the pain now; he had a feeling Craig couldn't even remember his own name right then.  
  
After Sören ate at him awhile, he slid up a little and sucked Craig's cock, and as he did, he lubed up his fingers and began to work them in and out of Craig's passage, one, then two, then three. Sören found the spot again, rubbing it, watching Craig's ecstasy and torment, cock continuing to throb and ache at the noises Craig made. Soon Sören was just licking Craig's cock, teasing it, as his fingers fucked him. When Craig started thrusting back at Sören's fingers, fucking himself on them, Sören knew he was ready.  
  
"You ready?" Sören asked, just to make sure.  
  
"I've been ready," Craig panted.  
  
Sören snickered. "Well, you know. I wanted to take care of you."  
  
Sören untied Craig, and half-expected Craig to shove him down and ride him, but Craig was submissive enough that he waited. Sören knew he needed to get fucked hard, and Sören, too, needed to fuck. He rolled Craig onto his stomach, and began to tease Craig with the tip of his cock against Craig's entrance as his fingers walked down Craig's spine with long, caressing strokes.  
  
"Fuck, take me. Please."  
  
Sören gave in, pushing in slowly. Craig was still tight - he hadn't had a lot of experience with men - and Sören didn't want to hurt him. Once Sören bottomed out in him, they both sighed, and Sören took Craig's hands and squeezed, a reassuring gesture.  
  
Then he grabbed Craig's hips and began to slam into him. Craig screamed into the pillows, grabbing them white-knuckled, rocking his hips back at Sören, matching his rhythm. Sören tried to keep his own voice down, but the pillows could only muffle so much of Craig's cries and soon Sören's groans and growls joined him, the slap of their flesh louder and louder. Every now and again Sören slapped Craig's ass. As he got closer to the edge, Sören started to spank him, fucking harder, faster. "Is this what my boy needs?"  
  
"God, yes..."  
  
"Yeah? Is this what my boy wants? Hm? Now you have an addiction to this cock, don't you?"  
  
"Oh god, I need it so fucking bad..."  
  
Sören slapped Craig's ass again. "That's right. This is so much better than getting high, isn't it? This is what you've been needing all along, a hard cock to fuck you and fuck you..."  
  
"Oh _god_ , more..."  
  
Sören was losing his own ability to make words. He reached around to play with Craig's cock, and when he felt Craig shaking, heard that telltale shuddery gasp, Sören knew he was right there, and Sören braced himself, holding back his own orgasm, even though Craig was making him crazy, wanting Craig to come first. Craig came with a long, fierce cry, and two thrusts later Sören was done, sinking down onto Craig's back, kissing the back of Craig's neck and shoulder as Craig shuddered underneath him, panting, sighing. Sören leaned in and rubbed noses with him, kissed him, and Craig smiled into the kiss.  
  
"Thank you," Craig said.  
  
They weren't done yet. That was one of the things Sören liked about being with someone in their early twenties - Craig recharged quickly. They lay on their sides facing each other, snuggling, kissing, and soon Craig was ready to go again, rubbing against Sören, making noises like he was in heat.  
  
Sören slid a pillow under Craig's hips and this time Craig lay on his back, looking up at him adoringly as Sören filled him and began to thrust... slowly. They had taken enough edge off that they could go slow this time. They had fucked, and now they were making love, looking into each other's eyes, nuzzling, kissing, stroking each other's faces and hair, hands wandering over each other's bodies. They had done this before, but tonight it felt more intimate than usual, and Sören wanted to cherish this memory, whatever else happened between them. And when Sören picked up the pace, rocking into him harder and faster, Craig's hips rolled back, matching his rhythm; Craig wrapped his arms and legs around Sören, and Sören kissed him deeply, wanting him to feel that he was cared for, that at least one person wanted him around.  
  
Craig had a loud, messy orgasm, screaming as he sprayed Sören's chest and stomach with his seed. Sören wiped it off with his fingertips and tasted it, then kissed Craig with the taste on his tongue, a show of acceptance and desire. As they kissed Sören came too, moaning into the kiss, and when another wave of pleasure took him and Sören broke the kiss to gasp, Craig reached up to touch his face and husked, "You're beautiful." Sören leaned back down and kissed him harder, and Craig gave a little whimper into the kiss, trembling against him as he shot again.  
  
They snuggled some more, and then Craig started to play with Sören's nipples. Sören hardened up inside him again, and they rolled so now Sören was on his back and Craig rode him. Sören loved watching Craig ride him, looking at his body, watching his cock glide in and out, watching the pleasure and lust on Craig's face. Craig didn't bother to keep his voice down, and Sören almost felt guilty, but those screams were too delicious. And when Craig came, he aimed for Sören's face, and it felt so debauched, lapping Craig's seed like a fountain, hot seed raining on his face, that Sören's orgasm was intense, making him scream too.  
  
Craig fell asleep not long after, and Sören watched him sleep, hoping he wouldn't have another nightmare. He pulled up the covers around them, and brushed a kiss against Craig's brow. "Sweet dreams, my own," Sören whispered before closing his own eyes.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The brother-lover with silver-gold hair has a few children, some of whom hold Sören in disdain, influenced by their religion. But there is one who adores him, and he is all grown up now.  
  
Craig has been watching him in the forge, wanting to learn how to smith like his uncle. It becomes apparent to Sören that's not all he wants, confirmed when Craig draws him into a kiss. Sören takes Craig on the anvil the first time, the heat between them rivaling the fire in the forge as Craig begs for more and they shoot their seed again and again.  
  
One of Sören's jewels goes missing, around the same time Craig stops visiting him in the forge. Sören follows his suspicions and sure enough, Craig has stolen it. He was going to pay a debt with it.  
  
"I was not using you," Craig insists.  
  
But Sören isn't so sure, and even though he helps Craig to craft another jewel to pay his debt - different, but still lovely in its own way - things between them aren't the same. Indeed, Sören's sons don't want him around anymore, thinking he is dishonorable. "And an idiot," one of Sören's sons says.  
  
Sören himself has misgivings, but doesn't want to push away his own family. He can forgive his own blood things he will not forgive others.  
  
It is more than that, however. Sören still desires him.  
  
And when the debt has been paid, Craig wants to show his gratitude, writhing underneath him as Sören reminds him who's in charge with thrust after thrust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream Sören has at the end of the chapter is based on personal headcanon and is not official Tolkien canon.


	9. Too Hot To Handle

If moving around were not such a big production, Anthony would be pacing around the greatroom in anticipation of Sören's arrival. As it was, he kept fidgeting on the sofa, checking out the window for his mother's car.  
  
While he would have never thought in a million years that a hot date would include dinner with his parents, that was nonetheless what Anthony was prepared for. Indeed, he'd been preparing for it all week. He was grateful that the spinal injury had not impaired his ability to get and maintain an erection, and over the last week he'd been consumed by fantasies of making love to Sören; it was almost embarrassing how many times he'd masturbated in the last seven days, going out of his mind with want. But he also considered it practice - it had been long enough since the last time he'd had sex that he didn't want to come too soon when he and Sören made love again, so he got in the habit of edging himself, taking his time. He also hadn't taken a real cock in a long time, and though a toy wasn't quite the same thing, it still helped to open him up a bit in preparation for Sören, who was not small.  
  
The memory of what Sören felt like inside him, and what it felt like inside Sören - and the _passion_ \- set his face on fire, sent a shiver through him. He was half-hard now, and desperately tried to push the fantasies away, not wanting an erection when his mother walked through the door. Then Anthony heard the sound of a car pulling in, and sure enough, it was Elaine's Aston Martin. As much as he'd been restless and wanting Sören to get here already, now he felt intensely awkward. He hobbled on his cane down to the hall to the bathroom, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, taking deep breaths, trying to pull himself together.  
  
He was back in the hallway just as the door opened and Elaine called down, "Anthony?"  
  
"I'm here, Mum. I'm coming."  
  
"Hi Coming," Sören called.  
  
Anthony facepalmed before he reached the greatroom - he knew how Sören meant it, which made it even worse - and his face was on fire again when he stepped into the greatroom and there was Sören, giving him a naughty look.  
  
Elaine was carrying a bouquet of sunsplash sunflowers, peach roses, lavender and eucalyptus. Anthony smiled when he saw it - it was an unusual combination and yet it _worked_ , which was so very Sören - and then he bit his lower lip as Sören had a large sunflower for him.  
  
Anthony's ex-friend Trisha had a great interest in the Victorian and Edwardian eras, which included the language of flowers. He offhandedly remembered her mentioning sunflowers meant adoration, faith and loyalty, and though the memory of Trisha made him sad - Trisha, who had arguably done the most damage to his relationship with Sören of all his friends; Trisha, who had mocked him after the accident - the symbolism of the sunflower touched him, and he wondered if Sören knew.  
  
Sören's smile was as radiant as the flower he handed to Anthony, and even though Sören was in all black himself, he seemed brighter than the sun. Anthony looked him up and down - Sören was wearing a black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up on the hot August day, and black trousers. His hair was hanging loose to his shoulders, and Anthony saw then that Sören still owned the sapphire and tanzanite earrings that he'd given him when they were together, he was wearing them now. Anthony could have cried.  
  
Sören had a satchel slung over his shoulder, which he set down on the coffee table; Elaine and Anthony went to the kitchen to put the flowers in vases, and Sören was there a moment later and Anthony leaned against the kitchen counter and hugged Sören tight. "Thank you," he said, kissing Sören's cheek. "Usually I'm the one to get you flowers."  
  
"Hi The One To Get You Flowers."  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes, chuckling, but it was a nice save; Sören's own eyes were a little too bright and Anthony knew then that he was just as caught up in the moment too.  
  
"Please, boys, sit down, make yourselves comfortable. I'll bring out drinks, then get dinner started." Elaine put a hand on each of them, and when she pinched Sören's cheek, Anthony made a noise.  
  
"Mum."  
  
"I don't mind." Sören took Elaine's hand and politely kissed it, European-style. "It's nice to be here again, Elaine."  
  
"It's nice to have you here again." Elaine grabbed him and hugged him then, rocking him a little. "Welcome home, Sören."  
  
Sören and Anthony took a seat on the sofa and Sören pulled him close. It felt so good to just _be_ , wrapped up in Sören's arms, feeling his heartbeat, breathing in his scent, that Anthony could have cried. He found himself playing with Sören's hair, and when Anthony lifted his head up to look into those beautiful brown eyes, Sören's smile took his breath away. They rubbed noses, so lost in each other that Anthony jumped a little when Elaine came in with a tray of lemonade and biscuits. Elaine laughed softly.  
  
"Aren't you adorable," Elaine said. She pulled out her cell phone from her jeans pocket and snapped a few photos of them on the sofa, cuddling.  
  
" _Mother._ "  
  
Sören's laughter rang out, and Anthony smiled a little as the cell phone camera captured Sören's laughter. Then Sören gave Anthony a noogie for the camera, and Elaine chuckled at the look of mock indignation on Anthony's face.  
  
Sören poured them each lemonade, and as he nibbled on a biscuit, he looked deep in thought. Anthony raised an eyebrow, prompting him, and Sören asked, "Where's your dad?"  
  
"He's working on one of his ships in a bottle," Anthony said. "He'll be out when it's closer to dinner. He wanted to give us some space." _Unlike Mum._  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm glad he's still doing that. That takes a tremendous amount of patience. I perform neurosurgery for a living and I don't have the patience for that shit."  
  
"I can see that," Anthony said. "You work on intricate, delicate procedures every day, so it makes sense that in your spare time, you want to relax. Although... your art has always been amazingly detail-oriented." Anthony pursed his lips. "I hope you've kept up with it since..." He didn't have to say it. "I'd like to see any new work, sometime, if you're -"  
  
Sören rubbed his beard, looking a little nervous. "There hasn't been much since we, you know." Sören frowned. "I hit a dry spell after..." Sören couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
Anthony reached out to squeeze Sören's arm, aching for him. He knew that Sören's art was a sort of lifeline for him, and the idea that Sören had been without one of his few comforts after the breakup, like the inspiration was gone, tore him up inside. _I broke you. I'm so sorry..._  
  
"Then earlier this year, I started to get back into it, slowly. I gave Nick a painting of Toby, actually, it's hanging up at the flat. You should see it sometime." Sören gave a resigned little sigh. "Now I just don't have a lot of time for art, it's not for lack of ideas. Sometimes I do work on things, Nick encourages me, but more often than not I'm too tired from work to really be able to concentrate. I used to have more of a routine and make the time, but after falling out of it, it's been really hard to get back into it."  
  
"Well, I hope you brought your tablet tonight."  
  
"I did." Sören nodded, and showed him the tablet in the satchel. "I want to thank you for suggesting that. For... giving me a space to work on things."  
  
"Of course." And Anthony remembered that horrible, thoughtless comment he'd made the day Sören walked out. _You're so fucking self-absorbed. You love your art more than me._ He wished he could take those words back, wished he could take all of it back. He hoped Sören knew he was trying to make up for it - he could not undo the damage, but he could try to heal it. And the truth was, he loved watching Sören at work. It was like watching a fire, or fireworks. Sören came alive when he drew and painted, and Anthony felt honored to bear witness. It was something very intimate, like participating in an ancient mystery rite.  
  
Sören kissed the tip of his nose.  
  
"You could even start now if you wanted to," Anthony said, wanting to be welcoming. "I don't know if you had any thoughts, any ideas you wanted to -"  
  
"Oh, my mind is always practically bursting with them," Sören said, laughing. "I don't want you to feel ignored, though -"  
  
Anthony vehemently shook his head. "I wouldn't have told you to bring the tablet if I thought I'd feel ignored. I can read. Having quiet time together is nice." At least for a little while, it would feel like living with Sören again, soothing his own pain.  
  
Sören nodded. Anthony got up. "Books are in my room," he said. Then he realized it might be rude to not show Sören his new room. "Do you... want to see?"  
  
"OK."  
  
Sören followed Anthony to his bedroom. Anthony's old boyhood room had been on the second floor of the four-story villa, and while Anthony could take the stairs to the second floor, he preferred not to, as it was an ordeal that completely wiped him out. So everything in his room had been moved to a room on the ground floor. It felt almost the same, except it wasn't, really, and Anthony could never quite forget that he was down here instead of upstairs because of his mobility issues. While moving back in with his parents had been something of a lifesaver after the accident, it was also nonetheless a blow to his pride.  
  
Sören seemed entirely unfazed, looking around Anthony's room. "Wow, it's almost just like I remember it." He chuckled at the ancient Bush poster on the wall, from the 1990s. "God, you still have that same Gavin Rossdale poster." He turned on a lava lamp and smiled fondly.  
  
Anthony went over to his bookshelf and picked out one of the N.K. Jemisin books he'd gotten at Greenleaf when they went book-shopping together. Then Sören grabbed him and snogged him hard. Anthony trembled against Sören, giving a little moan into the kiss as their tongues teased, as he kissed Sören back with all the pent-up passion of the last nearly two years without him, a promise of the way they would scorch the Earth later that night. Sören groaned and his arms tightened around Anthony. They pulled back a little to breathe, looking into each other's eyes, and then Anthony initiated the second kiss, and somehow they were backing up against the wall, Sören's back to the wall, Anthony dominant and commanding even leaning on his cane. His free hand played over Sören's chest, finding a pierced nipple through the fabric of his shirt and rubbing it. Sören whimpered and Anthony groaned, then he trailed hot, fierce kisses down Sören's neck, knowing how sensitive Sören was there.  
  
They were both breathing harder now. Sören's eyes were sparkling, his cheeks flushed. Anthony thought about just dragging Sören over to the bed and having a makeout session with him before dinner, but that didn't seem fair, since he knew Sören needed to make art, and he didn't exactly want his mother catching them, even though she knew they were adults.  
  
They went back out to the greatroom. That was when Sören finally remarked on what he saw.  
  
"You moved the piano down here, too?"  
  
"Well, movers did." Anthony still felt a sting of guilt about the trouble his mother had gone to, hiring movers to haul a grand piano from the sitting room on the second floor, down here. That had been just a few days ago, in anticipation of Sören's visit; Anthony hadn't asked Elaine to do it, she'd just decided it _"in case you want to play piano for him."_ Anthony gave a nervous little chuckle. "I've been out of practice for awhile. Very rusty."  
  
Sören opened his mouth as if to protest, but before he could, Anthony took Sören's tablet out of the satchel and thrust it at him before taking his seat on the sofa.  
  
Anthony began to read as Sören began to draw, and though the story was engrossing, Anthony couldn't help stealing glances at Sören now and again, and soon it became more and more frequent. Delicious smells came from the kitchen and Sören's stomach growled and Sören facepalmed. "Smooth," Sören said.  
  
Anthony laughed and rubbed Sören's tummy. "You're so cute."  
  
Sören poked the tip of his nose before kissing it. " _You're_ cute."  
  
Anthony's face was on fire again. Before he could steal a kiss, Roger came out from his office. He paused in his tracks when he saw Sören and Anthony sitting on the sofa, and then he just held his arms out. Sören got up from the sofa and came right over, hugging him. Roger was not the most demonstrative person in the world as a rule, so this open display of affection shocked Anthony. He knew that his father had been fond of Sören, even though Roger was still a little weird about his only child being gay, but this was unmistakable proof that his father accepted and welcomed Sören, too.  
  
"Hi, Roger," Sören said, returning the hug. "Long time, no see."  
  
"Indeed." Roger slapped Sören on the back and then straightened his posture, which was somewhat comical since he was a little shorter than both of them. "It's good to see you again." Roger gave Anthony a stern look and said, "You had better not blow it this time."  
  
The look on Sören's face told Anthony that his mind went right into the gutter with the words _blow it_ and it was taking Sören everything he had to not go there in front of Roger. Anthony restrained a laugh, trying to keep a straight face, nodding solemnly in response. "Yes sir," Anthony said, while Sören gave him a pointed look.  
  
Roger took an armchair while Sören sat back on the sofa next to Anthony. Anthony propped up his left leg, and Roger glanced at them both, taking it in, before he cleared his throat, looking just a little choked up - that made Anthony want to cry too, he wasn't used to his father being emotional - and then Roger cleared his throat. He poured himself a glass of lemonade, keeping his eye on them, and as he leaned back with the glass he said, "So, Sören, how's life been treating you?"  
  
"Well, mostly," Sören said. "I live in Covent Garden now. I applied for UK citizenship and should be hearing back about it by December or January."  
  
"Oh, so you don't need the NHS to sponsor your visa anymore? Will you be going private?"  
  
Anthony wanted to melt into the floorboards and die. He loved his father, but Roger was a Tory and they disagreed on certain key issues, the NHS being one of them. Anthony didn't know how Roger could read horror stories of Americans going into poverty because of medical debt - the show _Breaking Bad_ , where a schoolteacher turned to cooking methamphetamine to pay for cancer treatment, wouldn't be plausible here - and still hold the stance he had. But he especially didn't want that topic coming up now, when his old "friends" had belittled Sören for not going private; Sören who was from a Nordic country where medicine was socialized and had firm convictions that healthcare should be free, and that doctors were supposed to be civil servants, not moneygrubbers like they were in the States. Anthony agreed with him, and appreciated Sören's conscience.  
  
"I'm staying with the National," Sören said. "I'm on the track to become a consultant there within a few years. That's what I want."  
  
"It's good to have goals," Roger said.  
  
Anthony was only slightly relieved. He was still annoyed by Roger bringing up the question of Sören going private, but he seemed to have enough sense to not press it and to at least sound supportive of the direction Sören's career was taking.  
  
"What about you?" Sören asked. "Are you still doing part-time accounting?"  
  
"Probably until the day I die," Roger said. "I can only stand being semi-retired. I'm not so old yet."  
  
"Anthony says you were working on one of your ships in a bottle," Sören said. "Can I see?"  
  
Roger's face lit up, clearly pleased that Sören was interested in seeing his hobby. "Sure." Roger took a big sip of his lemonade and put the glass down, and gestured for Sören to follow.  
  
Roger's "man cave" was on the third floor, which was too much of a haul for Anthony, so he sat there, feeling a bit awkward. Elaine poked in. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," Elaine said. She gave a little sigh, and Anthony knew she knew he was feeling self-conscious about not being able to make the trip upstairs. "Would you like to help me set the table?"  
  
Elaine was not in the habit of asking that, and Anthony got the feeling she was asking, despite her tendency to coddle him, to get him involved in something he _could_ do and that would make him feel slightly better. Setting the table one-handed, with the cane in his right hand, was slow and a bit frustrating, but nonetheless, Anthony was determined to get it done, and it was indeed done by the time Sören and Roger came back downstairs.  
  
Sören, Roger and Anthony sat at the table and Elaine came out with dinner. She'd made salmon fillets, with sides of grilled asparagus and roasted herbed new potatoes. The smile on Sören's face made Anthony's heart skip a beat, and he reached under the table to squeeze Sören's hand.  
  
"I know you like fish, Sören," Elaine said.  
  
" _Takk_. You really went all out, it looks amazing," Sören said.  
  
"And as you can see I made plenty, so you can have as much as you want."  
  
There was also a chilled white wine to go with the meal. Anthony and Sören both went easy on the wine, but Anthony already felt intoxicated being around Sören. It felt surreal, that Sören was back in his life, that he was here, that they were going to make love again later tonight.  
  
"Sören was telling me that he's applied for citizenship and should be getting it in December or January," Roger said.  
  
Elaine nodded. "I'm glad you've decided to stay in England, Sören. Have you visited Iceland at all since last we saw you?"  
  
Sören shook his head. "No, though my brother Dag has been out to see me a couple of times. I'm trying to work on my cousin Ari to come out here to visit. He says he might for my birthday in November."  
  
"I'd love to meet any of your family if they come," Elaine said. "I liked your brother."  
  
"It's hard to not like Dag," Sören said. He snorted. "Unless you're Richard Dawkins."  
  
"He's a blowhard," Roger said. "Godless heathen -"  
  
Anthony raised an eyebrow at Roger as if to remind him that his own son was a "godless heathen". Anthony considered himself atheist or at best agnostic, though those dreams both he and Sören had when they were together, of what seemed like a past life, gave him a lot of uncomfortable questions. The irony was that Roger wasn't particularly religious, Anthony had only ever set foot in the Church of England for family events such as relatives' weddings, but nonetheless, Roger was traditional enough to nominally believe in God, and disapprove of those who didn't. It made no sense to Anthony, but then, a lot of baby boomers' attitudes made no sense to him.  
  
"My brother's a godless heathen too," Sören said mildly. "They don't disagree on atheism, they disagree on other things." Sören chewed his salmon thoughtfully. "This is so good, Elaine."  
  
"I'm glad you like it. I was hoping you would." Elaine smiled at him.  
  
"Something that's not related to religion or politics, please, if you don't mind," Anthony said, not wanting an argument with his father to ruin the evening.  
  
"Right," Roger said. Anthony was glad that although his father held some conservative points of view, he wasn't fanatical about it the way he'd observed some right-wingers could be, and it was easy enough for Roger to drop it. "So, uh, Sören." Roger gave Sören a serious look as he swirled the wine around in his glass, and took a sip. Anthony braced himself. "I hear that you're, um. Polymorphous."  
  
Sören almost spat his wine. Anthony facepalmed. He really hadn't wanted his father to know about Sören's arrangement with Nicholas, but he supposed Elaine was going to have to tell him sooner or later, especially if Roger had asked about Anthony and Sören living together again. But also, he cringed at the wrong word being used.  
  
"Well, technically he's not wrong," Sören said. "I have been through many stages in my life..."  
  
"It's _polyamorous_ , Dad," Anthony said, not able to believe he was having this conversation with his father.  
  
"I see. Poly...amorous. How's that working out?" Roger asked.  
  
"Good, so far," Sören said.  
  
"You're not one of those Mormons, are you?"  
  
" _Dad._ " Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, once again wanting to crawl into the floor and die.  
  
Sören snickered. "No, I'm a godless heathen like my brother," Sören said. "Besides, I don't know if you realized this or not, but the Mormons kind of frown on being gay."  
  
"I made brownies for dessert," Elaine said, giving Roger a look.  
  
"Oh, excellent." Sören raised his glass. "You're so kind."  
  
"Dad," Anthony said, "I hope that Sören's arrangement isn't going to be an issue." While he disliked getting into it with his father, he didn't want to make the same mistake he'd made where Sören felt disrespected by his "friends" and he'd done nothing about it. Now he knew no matter who, he was going to have to take a stand.  
  
"I'll admit it's strange to me, but like I said when you came out to us, I don't care what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own homes," Roger said. "I was just curious, it's not like I meet people in that... sort of... life... very often."  
  
"It's strange to me that it's strange to you," Elaine said. "We did come of age during the hippie era."  
  
"That must have been an amazing time to be alive," Sören said. "A terrible time to be gay, but still amazing in its own way, with the music, and..." Sören's voice trailed off and Anthony knew Sören was thinking better of saying anything about drugs and free love.  
  
"It's disappointing how many of us abandoned the vision and values we had during that era," Elaine said, giving Roger another look. "My mother ran an artist's commune during that time."  
  
"Oh, wow." Sören sighed. Then he frowned. "I'm really sorry about Anthea, by the way."  
  
Elaine nodded. "She had a long, full life."  
  
Anthony felt a twinge, missing his gran - it felt like bitter irony that he and Sören were back together and Anthea wasn't around to see it.  
  
"Maybe sometime I could visit her grave, bring some flowers and pay my respects," Sören said.  
  
"That's very sweet of you, dear," Elaine said. "We could indeed do that some time."  
  
Now it was Sören's turn to squeeze Anthony's hand under the table. Anthony really wished Sören had been there when Anthea passed, remembering how much it _hurt_ , like insult added to injury after his accident. Even though she'd been on a decline for awhile, it was still incredibly sad.  
  
"Speaking of flowers," Roger said, "I was going to mess about in the garden after dinner. I don't want to intrude on your date, Anthony, but if it won't, you're welcome to join me -"  
  
Anthony looked at Sören, and Sören nodded. "Maybe I could help too," Sören said. "Nicholas, the man I live with, has a rooftop garden and has taught me some things."  
  
Roger grinned, seeming pleased that Sören had taken up one of his hobbies. "An extra pair of hands is welcome," Roger said.  
  
Anthony felt a little touch of relief. Even though Roger's conservatism made things somewhat awkward, there was at least that common ground. And now he and Sören had something else to share, as well.  
  
"After dinner might be awhile, though," Sören said. "I think I will have seconds."  
  
Elaine beamed, triumphant.  
  
_  
  
  
Sören insisted on doing the dishes after dinner, even though Elaine protested, and that gave Anthony and Roger a moment alone before heading out into the garden. Roger seemed to finally get it that he might have made the dinner a bit awkward; though Sören seemed cheerful enough through the rest of the meal, and definitely enthusiastic about seconds, Anthony worried that the tense discussion might have put Sören off to coming over again.  
  
"I'm sorry," Roger said. "I know I put my foot in my mouth in there."  
  
"Just a bit," Anthony said.  
  
Roger nodded, swallowing hard, and then he reached out and hugged his son.  
  
Once again, Anthony was shocked. Hugging Sören had been unexpected, but Anthony supposed since Roger had been fond of his almost-son-in-law and it had been close to two years, it wasn't a completely abnormal response. On the other hand, Anthony rarely got hugs from his father himself. Anthony returned the hug, feeling choked up, hoping he wouldn't start crying when Sören was done with the dishes.  
  
"I'm trying," Roger said, patting Anthony's back as they hugged.  
  
"I know. Just maybe..." Anthony exhaled sharply. "Have a talk with Mum about... I don't know, how to handle all of this? I don't want Sören to feel uncomfortable when he's here."  
  
"OK." Roger tousled Anthony's hair before he pulled back. Then he sighed and said, "I really hope things work out with you two this time. It's been really hard to see..." Roger's voice trailed off and now Roger looked ready to cry again too.  
  
Anthony blinked back tears. He knew what Roger wasn't saying - that it had been hard to watch Anthony slide deeper and deeper into depression after the breakup. Anthony had felt like he'd been drowning. The return of Sören was a life raft, and while he hadn't yet reached shore, still feeling adrift on the choppy waves of "the new normal" post-accident, shore was at least in sight. He loved Sören so much it _hurt_ , and he was determined not to lose him again, not just because of the pain and emptiness of being without him, but that awful knowledge of having hurt him deeply, his sweet, sensitive beloved who'd already been hurt so much by the world. He didn't just need Sören there in his life, but he needed to make it _right_ , somehow. It offended his sense of justice.  
  
If Sören had been rankled by Roger's faux pas at the dinner table, he didn't let it show once he was done with the dishes and they headed out to the garden. Sören and Roger chatted amicably about the herbs and flowers, and Anthony observed that Nicholas had indeed taught him a bit about gardening the last while. As they worked, Anthony wondered if he would ever get to see Nicholas's rooftop garden, and he immediately felt like an idiot for wondering. He still didn't want to like the man Sören lived with, even if he had a cat and enjoyed reading and gardening, all things Anthony approved of. He didn't want to be a jealous maniac either, and felt guilty with his irrational anger with himself for wondering about their garden.  
  
And yet, looking at Sören on his hands and knees in the garden, touching bare earth, treating plants with tenderness - noticing Sören noticing the little details, admiring the wonder of growing life - Anthony knew that even though sharing Sören was still taking some getting adjusted to, Sören was what he wanted. He would take what he could get.  
  
The sun set, and when they were ready to pause for the evening, Elaine brought out more lemonade and sat with them. Sören rested his head on Anthony's shoulder and Anthony thought to himself, _Soon._ Soon, Sören would be writhing underneath him, and the passion would rival the fire blazing across the sky.  
  
But first, he knew Sören needed a little more time with his art. They bid Anthony's parents goodnight, and settled back on the leather sofa in the greatroom, Anthony's left leg propped up as he resumed the N.K. Jemisin novel, and Sören's stylus danced across the tablet, a look of intense concentration on Sören's face, like he was trying to teleport himself into another world, or pull another world into this one. The words of the story once again fell away as Anthony kept looking at Sören, and then when Sören paused, Anthony realized that staring was probably making him uncomfortable. Anthony needed something to do, but reading wasn't quite where his mind was at.  
  
The problem was that he was feeling too much. And suddenly, Anthony knew what he needed.  
  
Anthony found himself going over to the piano and sitting down at it for the first time in too long. He flexed his fingers and began doing scales. Though Anthony worried he'd mess up, the music flowed back to him naturally. And he found himself playing "Moonlight Sonata", something he hadn't played in years, never mind months. The music expressed for him what his words could not - the loss, the longing, the love. How beautiful Sören was to him, his regret for the past and hope for the future.  
  
When "Moonlight Sonata" was done, without thinking, just feeling, he transitioned to "Watermark" by Enya. He felt a little self-conscious and cheesy about playing an Enya song on the piano and yet, that too was how he felt, the combination of melancholy and joy all at once.  
  
As the song ended, he noticed Sören had stopped drawing and was just watching him. Anthony stopped, not wanting to disturb Sören, knowing he needed this space for art. And yet Sören said, "It's OK, Anthony. Go on." Sören gave a throaty chuckle. "You say you're rusty but that was pretty damn good."  
  
Anthony's face was on fire again. He bit his lower lip, unsure of what to say - "thank you" didn't seem sufficient, somehow. He flexed his fingers again, cleared his throat, and took a walk down memory lane. This time he sang as he played, even as he felt a bit stupid about singing, knowing he didn't sound as good as the guy at open mic last week, but he still sang from the heart.  
  
 _I wished on the moon, for something I never knew  
I wished on the moon, for more than I ever knew  
A sweeter rose, a softer sky  
On April days that would not dance by  
  
I wished on the stars to throw me a beam or two  
I begged on the stars and asked for a dream or two  
I looked for every loveliness, it all came true  
I wished on the moon for you_  
  
Sören got up, and walked towards him. Sören helped Anthony up from the piano stool, pulled him into a hug, and a deep, passionate kiss. They kissed all the way to the sofa, and when they tumbled down together they laughed before kissing again. And again. And again. Kissing like they were starving for it, kissing like their lives depended on it.  
  
"I love you," Anthony husked, stroking Sören's cheek, looking into those beautiful warm brown eyes.  
  
"I love you," Sören said, and kissed him again.  
  
When they pulled apart for air, Anthony's curiosity got the better of him and he glanced at the tablet on the coffee table. "Can I see?"  
  
Sören picked it up and handed it to him. "It's not anywhere near done, but..."  
  
Even as a black-and-white sketch, not yet colored in, it was amazing both in its realism and attention to detail. And even though it was nearly photorealistic, it nonetheless had that touch of magic, of fantasy, of _Other_ that Anthony felt characterized Sören's work. Here was a snapshot of the dreams they'd both had when they were together - Sören and Anthony in the bodies not their own yet still them, brother-lovers. Working in a garden as they had been earlier this evening... and Sören's other-self was putting a flower crown on the head of Anthony's other-self.  
  
It was a sweet, lovely picture, and once again it filled Anthony with that overwhelming feeling of joy and sorrow, regret for the past, gratitude for having Sören in his life again. He could almost see the memory in his mind's eye, and he wondered about it, even as he didn't like to speculate on whether or not they were just dreaming or they were remembering something real. The feelings were real. Too real.  
  
"Do you like it?" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
"I love it." Anthony put the tablet down. He stroked Sören's face again, pet his curls, drank in the sight of him. "I love you." With that, he grabbed Sören's face in his hands and kissed him, even more hungrily than before, wanting Sören to feel his love, his passion, his need.  
  
One kiss led to another, and another. Anthony gently pushed Sören back on the sofa, laying atop him, and Sören's arms wrapped around him; Anthony shivered as Sören's fingers traced down his spine, and he groaned into the kiss as Sören grabbed his ass and squeezed. Their tongues played together between kisses, and Anthony found himself grinding against Sören, hard-on straining in his jeans. Sören was hard too; Anthony moaned at the feel of the bulge in Sören's trousers, and again as Sören rubbed back. Anthony began to kiss and lick Sören's neck, encouraged by the way Sören moaned, the way Sören's fingers played down his back again, grinding against him harder.  
  
Anthony was as overcome with lust now as he had been with emotion a few moments ago. With trembling hands, he began to undo the buttons of Sören's black shirt, kissing and licking the creamy flesh exposed button by button, savoring the taste of Sören's bare skin. Sören's moans got louder, and Anthony's cock got harder, throbbing, wanting to just take Sören here and now on the sofa, but even if there wasn't the risk of one of his parents coming downstairs to the kitchen, Anthony wanted to take his time and really feast on Sören's body.  
  
When Sören's shirt was all the way unbuttoned and peeled back, Anthony took a moment to just look at him, both nipples pierced, his stomach toned, a fine growth of hair around his navel starting the "treasure trail" Anthony remembered all too well. It was indeed just like Anthony remembered, except Sören had new ink, a rose which looked like it was made of fire, on the right side of his body where his hip and waist met. It didn't just match the full-sleeve tattoo Sören had of flames going up his right arm, which led to a phoenix on the right side of his back, but Anthony knew from very personal experience that where Sören had the fireflower rose was one of his most erogenous places. The pretty rose contrasting with Sören's maleness was somehow indescribably erotic, and Anthony's breath hitched.  
  
"Fuck, you're beautiful," Anthony whispered.  
  
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, a look in his eyes that could drill through granite. Anthony claimed his mouth again, more roughly than before, and then he started down Sören's neck again, more insistently this time, kissing, licking, sucking, nibbling, cock twinging with each of Sören's delicious moans. Anthony kissed down to Sören's nipples, already pebbled. He began to lap at one and Sören cried out, bucking against him, clutching at Anthony's head.  
  
" _Fuck,_ " Sören moaned.  
  
"God," Anthony rasped. "God, I fucking want you." His tongue lashed at Sören's nipple fast and furious and then he gave the nipple ring a tug with his teeth before he drew the peaked nipple into his mouth, suckling hard. He pulled on the nipple with his mouth like he was nursing. The whimpers Sören made, and the feel of Sören's hard nipple in his mouth, the sight of Sören's body, was driving Anthony wild, grinding against him harder. Sören rubbed back, panting, gasping.  
  
Anthony turned to lick and suckle the other nipple, as he played with the one he just worked on, fingers tugging on the ring, rolling, rubbing, pinching it. Sören writhed and bucked, alternating between making deep, throaty growls and high-pitched keening noises. Anthony loved it, reveling in the glory of Sören lost in passion, and they'd only just begun. He went back to the first nipple, lapping fast, then brushing his tongue with slow, deliberate strokes, lashing again before suckling hard. Licking and suckling some more. He'd learned Sören's body very well over close to two years, and he knew Sören's pierced nipples loved attention... and he loved giving it.  
  
Back and forth he went between Sören's nipples, hard cock rubbing hard cock through the fabric of jeans and trousers. Anthony finally relented a little and kissed down Sören's chest to his stomach, another place Anthony knew Sören was intensely sensitive. He kissed and licked and nibbled over Sören's stomach, fingers walking and swirling, and then he kissed back up to Sören's nipples to worship them some more. This time he used his teeth, giving little bites before and after he sucked. The sight of Sören's hard, swollen nipples glistening from his mouth made Anthony feel like he could come in his pants. Not wanting to come too soon, he kissed his way back down Sören's chest and stomach, and then he gave that rose tattoo some love, tracing the outline of the ink with his tongue before kissing the rose itself, sucking on it, nibbling, making Sören cry out, shaking, swearing in Icelandic.  
  
Anthony's hands undid Sören's belt, and fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers. Sören was wearing black boxer-briefs that were very tented. Even with underwear on, Anthony could smell the scent of Sören's arousal. He found himself rubbing his nose in the treasure trail, the beginning of the black curly bush peeking out from the top of the underwear. Then Anthony rubbed his nose against the fabric of Sören's boxer-briefs, gave delicate little kisses over the hard cock through the fabric, before he took some of the bulge in his mouth. Even though the fabric of Sören's underwear felt a bit weird, Anthony didn't care. Teasing Sören like this was worth it. Sören shuddered and made a long moan, and Anthony's own cock jolted in response, wanting to be freed from the jeans and briefs that felt like a prison. Anthony rubbed his nose against the bulge in Sören's boxer-briefs again. His eyes locked with Sören's as he took the waistband of Sören's boxer-briefs in his teeth and began to tug, growling as he yanked the offending garment down and Sören's cock sprang free, standing at full attention, dripping precum. Anthony groaned at the sight of it, continuing to tug the underwear down. Sören's cock still had that Prince Albert piercing, a captive bead ring in the head. A shiver went through Anthony, remembering what that felt like inside him. He couldn't wait to feel it in him again, he couldn't wait to be in Sören too. He wanted to do everything, all night, until the sun came up.  
  
Sören's trousers were down to his knees, and the boxer-briefs were down Sören's thighs, cock and balls fully exposed. Anthony licked his lips, wanting to taste the delicious-looking precum sliding down Sören's shaft. He leaned in and just before he could lick the head of Sören's cock, Sören said, "Anthony, wait."  
  
Anthony paused, and looked into Sören's eyes. The hot look of raw lust on Sören's face had been replaced by wide-eyed concern, looking almost panicked.  
  
"We can't do this," Sören said.  
  
Anthony blinked. The pit of his stomach rose as his heart sank. His hopes came crashing down around him; he had flown too close to Sören's sun and now he was falling, crashing, deeper and deeper into the abyss.  
  
But first and foremost, before he addressed his own disappointment, he needed to make sure Sören was OK. He knew Sören had been raped in Reykjavik, which was why he'd left and not gone back. He hoped Sören wasn't triggered, and with a pang of guilt, he wondered if Sören was remembering that last day, when Sören caught him in bed with Scott, which he knew had also violated his trust.  
  
"What's going on?" Anthony asked.  
  
Sören sat up and rubbed his beard. Anthony noticed he didn't adjust his underwear just yet, and Sören was still hard. Sören looked down for a moment, brooding, deep in thought, and then their eyes met and the hurt in Sören's eyes made Anthony want to rip out his own heart and offer it to Sören to trample on. "This is moving too fast," Sören said.  
  
"Oh." Anthony was both relieved that Sören wasn't having a flashback of being raped in Reykjavik, and that feeling of guilt intensified that it was the trust issues _he_ caused with his idiotic actions almost two years ago, that would give Sören pause now. _I fucked up._  
  
Sören exhaled sharply. "What I mean by that is..."  
  
 _Oh god, there's more._ Just "this is moving too fast" would have been sufficient, but now Anthony knew he was going to get some kind of lecture. And he knew he deserved it. He knew he didn't deserve _this_ , the beautiful gift of Sören's love, his body, after what he'd done with Scott.  
  
Their eyes met again. "We were together for almost two years. And then in the course of a single afternoon, it all fell apart. There were problems for a few months before that, but it still took the better part of two years for us to get to the breaking point." Sören pursed his lips and then he went on. "It took the better part of two years for shit to come crawling out of the woodwork that made me think everything I knew about you was wrong and built on a lie. It's going to take me longer than a month to correct that. Yes, even though the last month has been good and you've shown me it's the same old Anthony I know and love... falling in love with you all over again." Sören reached out to stroke his face, a reassuring gesture that meant all the world to Anthony, giving him a glimmer of hope even as his heart was breaking.  
  
"So you need time," Anthony said, nodding. He could respect that; if the situation were reversed, Anthony would probably need time too... if he took the cheater back at all. Sören was more forgiving than he was.  
  
"I need time," Sören said. "But also, I need _proof_. You can swear to me up and down that you're not going to cheat on me again, or do me dirty some other way. But those last couple of weeks we were together, back in 2013, you were lying to me. You were going behind my back. So I need more than words. I need more than promises. I need to _see_ that things are OK."  
  
"I understand. I'm sorry I rushed you -"  
  
Sören put his hand up. "I'm not done yet," he said, his tone a bit stern, and then, realizing how harsh he sounded, he took Anthony's hand and squeezed, another reassuring gesture before he continued. "The problem is that the cheating was not so much the cause, as it was a symptom. We had a talk about this back in June, but it bears repeating. You... have issues. I have issues too, but you have... a lot of issues. And I'm really, really worried that once we're past the honeymoon stage, they're going to come back unless we can address them and start working on them now."  
  
Anthony looked down. His face was hot with shame, but he knew Sören was right. He looked up again, and his eyes could only meet Sören's for an instant before he looked away, fighting the urge to run. He needed to stay and face the music. "OK. So..." Anthony gave a "go ahead" gesture. "What do you think needs to be addressed and worked on, here?"  
  
"I don't want to sound rude or insensitive by saying this, but I feel like..." Sören looked like he was struggling for words, how to say what he was about to say. Anthony braced himself. "I don't want to be the only worthwhile thing in your life, Anthony. I get that the accident really demoralized you and I don't want to try to dictate to you how to feel about your disability and the way the accident affected you. At the same time, I feel like... you need something in your life more than me. Even if you weren't in the accident and didn't become disabled, I think it would be healthier for you to not put... ah, what's the saying... all your eggs in one basket. It's not healthy for me to be your everything. And some of that is based in my own personal experience. When I was with you, I had no friends, really. Friendly relationships with co-workers, like Colin, but nobody I considered an actual friend. You were it as far as my social life goes. And even though I'm an introvert, that still wasn't good for me."  
  
"So you're saying I need friends."  
  
"Yeah. Friends who aren't the old crowd you used to hang with."  
  
"Oh, don't worry, they don't want anything to do with me." Anthony gave a bitter little smile and then a bitter little laugh. "I don't think really anyone wants anything to do with me -"  
  
"And that's part of the problem. Again, I don't want to be the only thing in your life. It's not fair to me, not only because I can't deal with the pressure of having to be everything for you, but because it feels like... you're with me because you're taking for granted that I'll forgive you and it's something familiar. I love you, and I want to be with you again after there's been some time for you to prove you've changed and past history won't repeat itself, but I don't want to be your easy out, with me just to have somebody, something. And that's not fair _to you_. That's not a life, that's just existing. It makes me sad to see you like this, a shell of your former self. I'm not expecting insta-recovery from the accident, I'm not expecting things to be like they were before. Things _can't_ be like they were before. But you deserve more out of life than me being the only bright spot in it. I don't want to enable you to hide away from living again, that's not being a good partner to you."  
  
Anthony felt ready to cry, but he held back the tears.  
  
Sören said then, "And as far as nobody else wanting anything to do with you - you spent time with Karen a few weeks ago. I know the two of you weren't the best of friends in school, but I also know she doesn't bite, and whatever fears you have about reaching out to her and trying to make friends are unfounded."  
  
"OK, so... make a friend. Or friends, plural." That felt like a herculean, near-impossible task to Anthony, but he wasn't going to argue with Sören about it now. "What else?"  
  
"I really think you should go to therapy. I don't mean physical therapy, I mean psychological counseling."  
  
Anthony's heart sank again, and shattered some more. That felt even more impossible than making friends. His doctor had suggested counseling when he'd started prescribing Anthony antidepressants after the accident, but Anthony hadn't taken that suggestion.  
  
"I'm not a psychiatrist, but I'm pretty sure you have PTSD after the accident," Sören said. "You said you can't get behind the wheel of a car anymore without panic. And someone else died in that accident."  
  
"It wasn't my fault." That came out a bit defensively, and Anthony knew that even though it had been officially declared that Justin Roberts was the driver at fault, Anthony still felt guilty, like he'd done something wrong. And he knew from the way Sören watched his reaction that Sören knew how he felt.  
  
"No, it wasn't your fault, Anthony... but I know that can still be traumatic. And even without all of that, you were severely bullied in school. You lost an uncle to suicide. Those things, too, are sources of trauma. Your experience with bullying is still impacting you to this day. It's why you're afraid to make friends now. It's why you stayed friends with those assholes who were treating me like shit, as long as you did. I get it. I was bullied too." Sören let out a deep sigh. "Truth be told, I should be in counseling too, especially when I told Craig to get some help and he's not even as fucked up as I am, he had a happy childhood and everything."  
  
It was a blow to Anthony's pride. And of course, Sören went there, too. "Your pride went before a very big fall," Sören said. "Like I told you at the beginning, I need you to not with the 'stiff upper lip' thing if we're gonna do this. Counseling will help with undoing some of that bullshit conditioning and... fostering emotional honesty." Then Sören pinched the bridge of his nose, and rubbed his face. "God, I wish you spoke Icelandic. This is breaking my brain a little."  
  
"Your English is remarkable. Better than a lot of native speakers I've known," Anthony said, impressed that Sören hadn't lapsed back into Icelandic with emotions running high, as he sometimes did.  
  
Sören laughed softly, and quickly sobered. "I've been here long enough that I think half in English, half in Icelandic. It's a little scary to me, makes me feel like I'm losing touch with what I am. But I suppose this is home now." Their eyes met again. "And you're still home to me, Anthony. This isn't a rejection. I still love you. I still want to be with you."  
  
"But you need time."  
  
"Unfortunately so. I'm going to need time before we're intimate again and that means we're going to have to... be friends for awhile, and behave ourselves. Because getting all feelsy with each other, and making out, is too much temptation."  
  
As much as it would ache to not be able to kiss Sören for awhile, Anthony was willing to do what it would take, if it meant eventually they would be together again. "How long?"  
  
Sören closed his eyes, and then looked down again, and the brooding look on his face made Anthony tear up, heart sinking even lower. "I think I need at least a year."  
  
Anthony's mouth dropped. A few months would be difficult, wanting him so badly, but a year... Or... " _At least_ a year. That implies -"  
  
"That implies it might take a little longer than a year, like by a couple of months, yes. Like I said, it took close to two years for things to fall apart. It's going to take at least one full year of you proving to me that you're working on the issues that caused all of this, for me to feel ready to go there with you." Then another reassuring touch. "Once that happens, there'll be a mushroom cloud over London, trust me."  
  
Anthony laughed despite himself, and the touch of humor helped to soften the blow, to make it seem less bad. At least Sören still wanted him.  
  
"It's not no forever," Sören said, looking into his eyes again, taking Anthony's hands, as if he knew Anthony needed to know. "It's just... for now. For a year. As we rebuild trust."  
  
A year felt like eternity, and what Sören was asking of him felt like a tremendous amount of work that he barely had the energy for. But those beautiful brown eyes, and the magic that had been rekindled the last month...  
  
"OK," Anthony said. "I'll try."  
  
Sören reached out to hug him. The proximity of Sören's body got Anthony's cock throbbing again, even though Anthony knew they couldn't have sex tonight, or for a long time. And as they pulled away Anthony noticed Sören was still hard too. Sören noticed him noticing and they both laughed sheepishly.  
  
"Do you want me to wake Mum to drive you back?" Anthony felt incredibly awkward again. "Or I can pay for you to take a cab home..."  
  
"Well, I mean..." Sören shrugged. "I don't want to wake up Nick getting in late, either. And it would be nice to hold you, if you're OK with just holding each other tonight. Just cuddling."  
  
"I like cuddling." Anthony liked cuddling with Sören at least as much as he liked sex; he had skin hunger for holding and being held, and if that was all he could get right now, he would take it. But then he looked down at the erection in his jeans, painfully hard. "Just cuddling" with Sören when he was like this was a special kind of torture. "Er. Do you mind if I go in the bathroom and take care of this, then -"  
  
"Just this once," Sören said, "we can take care of it together."  
  
"But you said no sex."  
  
"No, but this isn't quite... well, you'll see," Sören said. "After tonight we shouldn't do this, either, what I propose we do, but this is, ah... well, different circumstances."  
  
Anthony's cock stiffened even more. His balls felt almost unbearably tight. "What are you proposing?"  
  
They went to Anthony's bedroom and took off the rest of their clothes after they stepped in. The lights were off, the only light source in the room the blue glow of Anthony's nightlight. Anthony didn't want to turn the lights on fully, self-conscious of the scars from the accident over his chest and shoulder and back. But what he could see of Sören in the dim blue light was good enough, still getting his blood flowing, cock pulsing. Sören turned down the covers and climbed in the bed, propped up on one elbow, lazily stroking himself as he watched Anthony limp over, hard cock bobbing with every step. Once Anthony was in the bed, Sören grabbed him and kissed him, and as they kissed, Sören took both their cocks into his fist and started stroking them together.  
  
"Oh god, Sören." Anthony moaned into Sören's shoulder, a shiver going through him. He wasn't going to last long, feeling the silken steel of Sören's cock rubbing against his, the vise-like grip of Sören's hand around them both, Sören's naked body so close.  
  
Sören moaned too, and kissed him again. Sören's fingers ran through the chest hair that had started to grow now that Anthony no longer went in to get waxed, and then Sören was kissing his throat, kissing down to the patch where the chest hair started. As soon as Sören began licking it, Anthony went off like a rocket, coming with a cry. Sören looked down and moaned at the sight of Anthony's cock shooting onto his cock and a few seconds later Sören was coming too. Their mouths met again, and the sensuality of the kiss just intensified Anthony's orgasm, coming and coming, so good it almost hurt.  
  
" _Fuck._ " Sören let out a shuddery sigh, shaking as he continued spurting.  
  
Anthony felt like he was made out of jelly, his mind drifting away on a fluffy cloud of pure light. He was aware of Sören's fingers at his lips and he tasted them both and watched Sören tasting their cream from his other hand, giving a little groan before they kissed again, sharing it. Then Sören pulled the covers up around them and Anthony rested in Sören's arms, basking in that wonderful glowy, weightless feeling.  
  
"One year," Sören said, nuzzling his neck. "And then what we just did won't even compare to what we're going to do."  
  
Anthony wanted to believe him. He wanted, desperately, to hold onto that hope. But he still felt nervous about the whole thing, like his attempts at rebuilding trust would keep falling apart. He felt too broken.  
  
He pushed away those dark, leaden feelings, turning back to the light, and the cozy, safe feeling of having Sören in his bed, in his arms, resting in Sören's own arms. At least he had this, right now. He savored it to the dregs, until his body gave in to sleep.


	10. Family Time

Despite Sören saying he wanted to just cuddle with Anthony, he fell asleep not long after the frot handjob, the electrifying orgasm so intense that he couldn't help but pass out. But in the middle of the night Sören's body woke him up to pee, and when he climbed back into Anthony's bed, Anthony rolled against him and hugged him tight, snuggling into Sören's shoulder as he made a half-awake noise. "You're cozy," Anthony mumbled.  
  
Sören fondly tousled Anthony's hair and kissed the top of his head. He smiled at Anthony's sleepy smile, and let out a happy little sigh as Anthony moved even closer. Then he groaned as his cock stirred again at the proximity of Anthony's naked body against his. Already, Sören was regretting the rule he'd imposed for them to be just friends, no sex, for at least a year, since rebuilding the broken trust would take time, and specific actions over time. But as much as Sören's body wanted to roll Anthony onto his back, shower him with kisses, and ride Anthony until the dawn, Sören resisted. He had to stick to what he'd said, to make absolutely sure history wouldn't repeat itself and create even more damage than before.  
  
And it was nice to just cuddle. Almost too nice; Sören felt a wistful ache, remembering what it was like to cuddle with Anthony in bed when they were together years ago, snuggling, spooning, how safe and warm and _right_ it felt. It still felt right, even though it was the wrong time.  
  
Anthony still felt like home.  
  
Sören started to rub Anthony's back, and a moment later Anthony began to rock both of them. Anthony picked his head up and they rubbed noses, then Anthony rubbed his nose against Sören's beard, making Sören laugh before he kissed the tip of Anthony's nose.  
  
"I love you so much," Anthony said, his voice husky from sleep. "I know you need time, but..."  
  
"It doesn't change how you feel. Or how I feel." Sören kissed his brow. "I love you too." Sören's arms tightened around him.  
  
They just held each other for awhile before going back to sleep, basking in the lazy calm of being tangled up together, the sweetness of how they fit together, how even after all this time and everything that had happened, there was still a sense that they belonged. Sören could feel how much Anthony loved him, expressed through the strength of Anthony holding him, and the vulnerability of being held. And Sören expressed that right back. They breathed each other's breath, and the problems of the world seemed far away.  
  
In the morning Sören awoke to a cold empty place beside him, which made him frown and whine a little, reaching out to something not there. As he opened his eyes Sören remembered that Anthony typically got up before he did on mornings when Sören didn't have to be up by a set time; Sören was not a morning person.  
  
Sören changed - he would worry about showering when he got back home - and he went in the direction of where he heard movement, which was coming from the kitchen. Anthony was in blue plaid pajama bottoms and a lighter blue T-shirt, his hair mussed. He gave Sören a little wave. "You're just in time for tea," he said.  
  
Anthony poured tea for both of them and they sat at the kitchen table together, eating scones Elaine had set out for them. "Mum's at the store, she should be back shortly," Anthony said, and then he gave a little frown. "I suppose you're going to want to head back?"  
  
Sören nodded. "Nick will be expecting me home when he gets off campus. Wednesdays are his shortest day year-round, so he should be back sometime between noon and one."  
  
"OK. Well..." Anthony sighed. "Thank you for spending the night, even though..."  
  
Sören reached across the table, took his hands and squeezed. Sören kissed them before he let go. "It was still nice to cuddle with you."  
  
"Yeah, it was."  
  
"But we probably shouldn't do any spending the night for a bit. It's too tempting."  
  
Anthony chuckled. Their eyes met and held; Anthony blushed and bit his lower lip, which made Sören want to throw him down on the table and maul him. "This is going to be a long year," Anthony said before he picked up his mug and took a sip of tea, giving Sören a pointed look over his mug.  
  
Sören nodded. "For you and me both."  
  
"But..." Anthony put his mug down and exhaled sharply. "Even though we're, I suppose, not officially back together... I assume we're going to keep seeing each other?"  
  
"Well, yeah, that was the plan," Sören said. "I'd still like to keep spending time with you, we just can't spend the night. Really, the only thing that's changing here is we're not officially back together and we're not sleeping together. My feelings haven't changed. Wanting to see you hasn't changed."  
  
"OK." Anthony nodded. "This is going to be difficult, but I can manage so long as you're... not gone." And then Anthony started to cry. He covered his face with his hands, seemingly ashamed of himself, as he heaved with quiet sobs. " _Jesus._ I'm sorry..."  
  
"Oh god." Sören felt like his heart and his stomach traded places. This wasn't an act; here was living proof that their separation had hurt Anthony just as much, that Anthony had missed Sören as much as Sören had missed Anthony. Sören felt like he was dying a little inside to see just how much Anthony hurt at the prospect of fading out of his life again. He found himself getting up from the table, getting down on his knees on the floor beside Anthony, and taking Anthony into his arms, rocking him. "It's OK. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled Anthony's hands from his face and gave him a stern look. "So long as you behave." He poked the tip of Anthony's nose to offer a vote of confidence.  
  
"Being without you hurt _so much._ " Anthony made a little strangled noise and fell apart again. Sören blinked back tears of his own. "I'm sorry. I don't -"  
  
"It's OK." Sören leaned in and stroked Anthony's tears with his thumbs and fingers. He wanted to kiss them, but he knew that would lead to kissing him, and that would probably lead to a blowjob or something that would go against the wait-a-year policy. Sören wanted so very badly to be inside him, and be filled by him, the promise that nothing would come between them again. But he had to follow his own rule.  
  
When Anthony had calmed down a bit, Sören sat in the chair next to him and pulled over his tea. Sören pulled out his cell phone and checked his schedule. Then he put his cell phone down on the table, feeling a sharp pang of guilt when he realized how long it had been since he'd had a proper date with Karen or Geir. "So Anthony..."  
  
Anthony raised an eyebrow.  
  
"While I do want to keep spending time with you, I'm overdue for seeing some of my other partners. Do you think you'd mind terribly if I reserved you a day the week after next, so I can see Karen and Geir next week?"  
  
As Anthony sipped his tea, Sören could tell that he _did_ mind and was trying not to. Sören knew this was still going to be an adjustment for Anthony, having to wait his turn in a queue with Karen and Geir and Craig, and he hoped that for everyone's sake Anthony would get adjusted to it sooner rather than later. Then Sören realized he'd also referred to "some of my other partners", which revealed he still thought of Anthony as one of his partners, even though they weren't officially back together. Their eyes met again and Sören knew Anthony had caught it too. Finally Anthony put his tea down and simply nodded. "I can deal with that."  
  
"OK. I promise you, the week after next we can get together and do something. You're also always welcome to come visit me at the National on one of my breaks between now and then." Sören passed over his cell phone so Anthony could take a look.  
  
"I'd like that," Anthony said, and patted his arm. Sören smiled, though his arm tingled from Anthony's touch and that went straight to his cock; even that little touch felt like too much, making him _want_ , and yet Sören couldn't be without it.  
  
Sören imagined that if just those little touches was sending his own libido into overdrive, it must have been as bad for Anthony if not worse. At least Sören had Nicholas and his other partners; Sören felt another pang of guilt that Anthony didn't have anyone else. And that was cause for concern too - if Anthony hadn't been able to get his needs met when it was just the two of them, Sören worried that Anthony would suffer even more with having to share Sören not just with his job but other people.  
  
"One more thing," Sören said. He heard a car pulling in, and felt a little prickle of alarm, not wanting to have this discussion in front of Elaine even though he knew Elaine was open-minded and seemed to be OK with the fact that Sören was in an open relationship with Nicholas; it just felt too personal. "I'll make this quick."  
  
Anthony gave him a "go ahead" gesture.  
  
"Even though I said you and I need to wait a year before we... ah..." Sören didn't want to say it, already feeling too pent up, like somehow saying it would make it even worse. "That's just for you and myself. I don't expect you to be celibate for a year. Like I said at the beginning if you want to see other people I'm fine with that, I just want you to tell me who -"  
  
"I already told you I don't want to see other people," Anthony said.  
  
"Well, that might change. I'm just saying, Anthony, a year is a long time. It's going to feel like an even longer time because we're still spending time together and..." _Being around you makes me want to fuck your brains out._ "So seriously. If you feel that itch, I'm not going to yell at you for scratching it, just be honest with me about it."  
  
"OK. But I probably won't -"  
  
"Just in case you do." Sören didn't want to be annoyed with him, but Sören also didn't understand why Anthony was doubling down almost like he disapproved of the idea. Anthony seemed to register the discomfort and gave an apologetic little smile.  
  
That was when Elaine walked in, carrying groceries. "Elaine, do you need help with anything?" Sören asked.  
  
"No, dear, I'm fine. It was just a small trip to the store." Elaine tousled Sören's curls as she walked past. She loaded her bags onto the counter and promptly began putting away things that needed to go in the freezer and refrigerator. "How did you sleep?"  
  
"Well," Sören said.  
  
"That's good. I worry about you getting enough sleep with all those hours you put in."  
  
Sören tried not to wince; Elaine had witnessed the hell of his last couple of months with Anthony, where Sören was working a hundred hours a week and ended up microsleeping involuntarily because he was critically exhausted. While the last fortnight hadn't been as bad, it had still taken its toll. But then he felt a little bit of warmth, knowing Elaine cared about him. He'd missed that. That, too, had been part of why the separation from Anthony had hurt so much; Elaine and Roger were the first real family he'd had apart from his siblings and cousin.  
  
"Were the scones enough?" Elaine asked then. "Do you need more of a breakfast -"  
  
"The scones were good and já, it was enough. Actually, I'll need to head back soon, I want to get home before Nick does."  
  
"All right. I'd be happy to drive you back once I get the groceries put away -"  
  
"I'm not in a big rush. If you want to sit and relax and have some tea first, that's fine with me."  
  
That was what Elaine did. Anthony got showered and changed while Elaine took a break, and Sören was able to tell that it was in fact a bit of a production, hearing Anthony curse down the hall as he messed around with a shower chair and having to maneuver around. Sören felt a pang of sympathy, but more than that, he felt an ache, wishing he could join Anthony in the shower, finding a way to help him feel better about the whole thing by making the shower playful and sensual. Once again, Sören was questioning his sanity at needing to wait a year to rebuild trust. And his face was on fire, not wanting to get worked up thinking about Anthony naked in the shower, in front of Anthony's own mother.  
  
Anthony came out on his cane, hair damp, wearing faded jeans and a charcoal grey T-shirt. "Will you be joining us for the ride?" Elaine asked.  
  
Immediately at the word _ride_ , Sören's mind went even deeper into the gutter. It didn't help that Anthony looked delicious with his hair still wet and a little messy, and smelled delicious fresh from the shower. Sören fought back mental images of rimming him, sucking him...  
  
Anthony shook his head. "I already feel frustrated enough from the shower without having to get in and out of a vehicle. No offense, Sören."  
  
"None taken," Sören said. "I suppose I should hug you goodbye now, then."  
  
Anthony nodded. Sören got up and went over to him, and they held each other tight. The proximity of Anthony's body and the scent of him made that longing even worse. Sören fought the urge to kiss him. "Thank you, again," Sören said.  
  
"Thank you." Their eyes met. "Shall I visit you at the National on Friday afternoon?"  
  
"Please do," Sören said. The thought of seeing Anthony again filled him with a giddy happiness, even if they were just going to be friends for now.  
  
"OK." Anthony gave a shy little smile that made Sören want to slam him against the wall, tear off his jeans, and...  
  
Sören tried to get his mind off the thought of getting Anthony off as Elaine drove him back to Covent Garden. But his mind kept replaying the scene from last night, the way he'd relieved them by taking both cocks into his hand, stroking them together. Replaying the way Anthony's cock had spent all over his cock. Wanting more. He kept having fantasies of what they could have done together last night if he hadn't imposed the wait-a-year rule, what they could have done this morning in the shower. Memories of times they'd made love before, what Anthony looked like and sounded like in the throes of passion, what his touch felt like...  
  
Every nerve in Sören's body was screaming for sexual release by the time he got out of Elaine's car. Though Sören hated taking the lift by himself, he didn't want to ask Elaine to go with him, feeling self-conscious about his claustrophobia. But once he was in the lift, he tried to distract himself from the panic by thinking about Nicholas holding him, the deep, sexy voice soothing him with _Daddy's here, Daddy's got you_ , and now Sören began fantasizing about Nicholas as well, wanting to rub his nose in the silver pelt, wanting to lick him all over, wanting to ride him. By the time the lift chimed at the top floor, Sören was rock hard, his trousers tented, and his hands were shaking as he worked his key in the door.  
  
Tobias greeted him at the door, meowing and circling around Sören's ankles like he hadn't seen people in days as opposed to just a few hours. Sören checked to make sure Tobias had food - there was still plenty in his dish, though Tobias gave him big eyes and a "I can see the bottom of my dish" meow - and then he washed his hands, a force of habit when he got home, and got to work. Nicholas didn't insist Sören "earn his keep", especially when Sören worked so many hours, and Nicholas did a good job of keeping things tidy, but Sören still insisted on doing what he could when he had time to spare. Now Sören tackled the cat boxes, in part as a kindness to Nicholas, and in part to try to distract himself from the _cock cock cock_ craving; there were few things unsexier than cleaning a litterbox.  
  
Tobias came over to "supervise" as Sören scooped the boxes, dumping the litter clumps into a trash bag. Sören chuckled, and laughed harder as Tobias began to meow, as if he were asking "Why are you taking my poop?" When the cat boxes had been scooped, Sören put the trash bag in the kitchen garbage, washed his hands again, and decided now would be a good time to shower.  
  
Unfortunately, even with the unsexiness of the cat boxes, being naked in the shower got Sören going again, his mind playing a steamy fantasy of Nicholas getting home just then and joining him in the shower. Sören tried to push those thoughts away, not wanting to be all worked up like this, but he only partially succeeded, his body aching for touch as he made his way to the bedroom he and Nicholas shared.  
  
He needed more distraction. Sören put on red plaid pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt - he could put on actual clothes if they were going out later - and he went downstairs to the hall closet. He retrieved the vacuum cleaner and took it back upstairs. He always started with the upstairs, and worked his way down. He felt a little guilty as Tobias climbed to the top of the wardrobe in their bedroom, ears folded down, watching with fear, and made a mental note to make up for it later by giving the cat some treats.  
  
Once he was downstairs he hoped Tobias would feel safe enough to get down from the top of the wardrobe, but he also knew from past experience the cat could stay up there for quite awhile, until he was absolutely sure the danger had passed. Sören felt guilty again, and the cat's own fear reminded Sören of his fears - he wished he didn't still have such panic about the elevator in their building. That of course led him to think about how good Nicholas was for accompanying him in the lift whenever he was around, the safety of Nicholas's arms, the shield wall of his chest...  
  
And there it was again, that surge in Sören's libido, wanting to suck Nicholas like the vacuum was sucking on the rug. The vacuum was loud enough that Sören didn't hear the keys in the door, and his startle response kicked in when the door opened, even though it was just Nicholas. Nicholas jumped at Sören jumping; he was carrying a cup of coffee as if he'd stopped at a cafe on the way home and it spilled over his shirt. Sören felt bad about laughing, but he couldn't help it, and then Nicholas laughed too, and their eyes met.  
  
"You're just in time for the wet T-shirt contest," Sören quipped.  
  
Nicholas facepalmed with his free hand, chuckling.  
  
"Here." Sören shut off the vacuum cleaner; he was almost done, anyway. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault, dear -"  
  
"Well, still." Sören walked over to him. "Let's get that shirt off you and in the wash." And then as soon as Sören began helping Nicholas out of his shirt, the hunger consumed him and he slammed Nicholas against the door, kissing him hard as he unbuttoned the shirt. Nicholas groaned into the kiss and let out a moan as Sören began to kiss down his neck and throat, began to kiss the flesh exposed with each button, licking the chest hair.  
  
When the shirt was completely unbuttoned, Nicholas removed it, and Sören ran his hands over Nicholas's chest, rubbed his nose in the chest hair, before giving Nicholas another deep, passionate kiss. Sören followed Nicholas to the laundry hamper in the hall, and Sören marched with the hamper to the washer and dryer. They put clothing in the washing machine together, and it turned into a sort of mating dance with fingers brushing, little touches, plenty of eye contact. As soon as the washing machine was started, Sören grabbed Nicholas and kissed him again, and then Sören found himself undoing Nicholas's belt and trousers, dropping to his knees, and looking into Nicholas's eyes as he moved closer to the hard cock. Nicholas took Sören's head in his hands and guided him yet closer, and gasped as Sören leaned in to take a lick at the head of his cock. "Oh, love..." Nicholas closed his eyes and sighed, then his eyes met Sören's again, fierce and predatory. One of his hands slid down from Sören's curls to touch his face as Sören's hand wrapped around the shaft and he just licked at the cock again and again, teasing.  
  
At last Sören drew the head of Nicholas's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly, rubbing his tongue as he sucked. Nicholas moaned and shivered, and his fists tightened in Sören's curls. "Mmmmmmm," Sören moaned, savoring the feel of Nicholas's cock in his mouth, the taste, the reactions. Sören's own cock throbbed painfully in his pajama bottoms.  
  
"Darling." Nicholas stroked Sören's face again, and trembled. "Sweetheart..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören took the cock out of his mouth and husked, "I missed my Daddy," before he took another long, slow, deliberate lick, and another. He licked and licked, watching Nicholas, wanting. Sören guided the cock back into his mouth and took more of it in, still sucking slowly.  
  
After a few minutes Sören sucked harder, faster. Nicholas's moans got louder, his breath more ragged. Sören's balls tightened, and Sören could feel precum dripping in his pajama bottoms. He wanted to taste Nicholas, but he wanted Nicholas inside him, too. He wanted everything. He felt like he was going out of his mind with how much he wanted, needed.  
  
Nicholas pulled back, and Sören gasped for breath, groaned at the lewd, debauched sight of a streamer of precum clinging to his face, Nicholas's cock glistening and dripping precum. Nicholas collected the drop with his fingers before it could drip down to the floor, and pushed his fingers into Sören's mouth. Sören's cock jolted as he sucked at Nicholas's fingers, and again as he licked them clean.  
  
"Upstairs," Nicholas rasped.  
  
They were both hard, and couldn't help chuckling at the sight of their hard cocks bobbing as they made their way up the steps. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Sören grabbed Nicholas and kissed him fiercely, and they kissed all the way to the bedroom. In the bedroom Nicholas took command, marching Sören back to the bed, pushing him down on the bed and climbing on top of him with a hungry look that sent a frisson down Sören's spine. Sören took off his shirt and Nicholas moaned at the sight of Sören shirtless, nipples peaked.  
  
Nicholas yanked down Sören's pajama bottoms and he returned the favor, diving down and taking Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking hard, like he was starving for it. Sören gasped and bucked, clutching Nicholas's head. For someone who had been a priest and lived a life of celibacy, Nicholas had learned well over these last few months, putting his skills to work, devouring Sören's cock. It didn't take long for Sören to get right on that edge, shaking, whimpering.  
  
Before Sören could come in Nicholas's mouth, Nicholas rose up, and quietly reached for the lubricant they kept by the bed. He sank down and claimed Sören's mouth in a kiss that made Sören feel like he could come untouched. He poured lube over his cock and Sören worked it in, hands rubbing Nicholas's cock, as Nicholas kissed him again, then kissed and licked Sören's neck, down to his shoulders, down to a nipple. As Nicholas lapped and suckled at an aching nub, his slick fingers stole between Sören's legs, one finger then two, finding that spot inside him and stroking it. Sören cried out, and again as Nicholas sucked the nipple harder, his tongue lashing fiercely before he turned to the other.  
  
Back and forth Nicholas went between Sören's nipples as his fingers played inside him. When Sören was ready, Nicholas spread and lifted Sören's legs, and pushed inside. They both moaned when Nicholas bottomed out in him. Then Nicholas leaned down and whispered, "Daddy's home, sweetheart," before he began to thrust.  
  
That was exactly what Sören needed. Sören's arms held Nicholas tight and they kissed deeply as Nicholas's cock glided in and out of him. "Daddy," Sören called out. "Daddy, I love you..."  
  
"I love you, darling." Nicholas rained kisses over Sören's face, and then kissed his mouth again. Their tongues played together between kisses and the sultry look Nicholas gave him made Sören's cock throb, made Sören guide Nicholas's hand to his cock to stroke it as Nicholas's cock hit that sweet spot inside him just right.  
  
"Oh, Daddy." Sören bit his lip and groaned with a shudder. "Oh god, Daddy, I need it..."  
  
"Such fire in you, my love." Nicholas kissed him again. "I love coming home to you this way."  
  
"Mmmmmm." Sören smiled and kissed him back. "I love welcoming you home. Our home." Their eyes met. "Our life."  
  
Something about that brought out the passion in Nicholas, even wilder, and Sören whimpered into the kiss as Nicholas began to thrust harder, faster. Soon Sören's nails were digging into his back, rocking his hips back at Nicholas as the older man slammed into him with the vigor and force of someone much younger, _taking_ him, making Sören feel claimed, conquered. Sören loved it, panting "more, Daddy, more," in time with their rhythm. Soon he couldn't make words at all, only strangled little sobs as Nicholas's hand worked his cock harder, getting him _right there_ and keeping him there, lost in the glory of sex, where all that existed was their bodies, their pleasure, their want.  
  
The stroking of his cock and rubbing inside him felt more and more intense, pleasure wound tighter and higher until Sören shattered, screaming as he came all over Nicholas's chest and stomach. "That's my boy," Nicholas said, stroking him through his climax. "That's my good boy. That's Daddy's good boy, that's my boy..." And then Nicholas shuddered and Sören knew he was about to come. "Oh god." Nicholas trembled again and made a feral noise as he spent inside Sören. Sören shot off another arc of cream, moaning with him. Nicholas kissed him, shivering against him, and Sören's arms tightened around him and they rocked together, laughing and rubbing noses in the bliss of release.  
  
"I love you." Nicholas kissed Sören's cheeks and nose and chin. "I love you, sweetheart."  
  
"I love you." Sören stroked Nicholas's cheek, skritched his whiskers. Nicholas smiled and leaned into Sören's touch.  
  
Then Tobias let out a meow from on top of the wardrobe. Nicholas facepalmed, shaking with full-bodied laughter. "Tobias! Were you watching this entire time, you rapscallion?"  
  
Tobias meowed again. He hopped down from the wardrobe, and a moment later he bounded onto the bed, joining them, purring.  
  
Sören and Nicholas both reached out to stroke the cat. Sören thought there were few things better in life than being tangled up with his lover in the afterglow of a good orgasm, with a sweet, adorable cat purring next to them. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, fingers and toes curling. Nicholas trailed little kisses along Sören's jaw, rubbed his nose in Sören's beard, and gave him one last sweet kiss as he pulled out. Then he rolled onto his side and pulled Sören into his chest. Sören made a little noise of contentment as he listened to Nicholas's heartbeat, felt the wonderful comfort of Nicholas's fur, the solidity of his chest and the arms around him. Just like that, Sören fell asleep.  
  
He woke a little while later. Nicholas was awake, watching him with a fond smile on his face, petting his curls.  
  
"Hi," Sören mumbled sleepily. He yawned and stretched, then made a noise when he looked at the time.  
  
"I was thinking about waking you so I could start dinner," Nicholas said. "But I'm also not exactly in a rush to disentangle from you."  
  
"Mmmmmm." Sören snuggled against him. "You feel so good, Daddy."  
  
"You do too." Nicholas kissed the top of Sören's head. Then he looked into Sören's eyes. "How did it go last night?"  
  
"Oh, it was nice," Sören said, nodding.  
  
Nicholas nodded too, and Sören decided just to tell him. "We didn't have sex," Sören said.  
  
"Oh."  
  
While Nicholas tried to keep his expression neutral, Sören thought he detected the slightest bit of relief in Nicholas's body language - the way his posture straightened up as he'd asked about Anthony, and now he relaxed again.  
  
"Well, let me rephrase that. I gave us a handjob, but that was it, and it was because we were all worked up." Sören pursed his lips. "I've been thinking a lot about the situation with Anthony, and while I love him and I want to forgive him, I also can't change the fact that he did a tremendous amount of damage and it's not the sort of thing I can instantaneously get over. So I told him last night I'm going to need at least a year before we resume intimacy, because I'll need that long for him to prove to me that the issues that contributed to why things went bad, are being resolved."  
  
"I think that's prudent. As you know, I gave you my permission to resume intimacy with him, but I admit I'm glad you're holding off for now."  
  
"For now." Sören nodded.  
  
"So..." Nicholas cocked his head to one side. "I assume you are asking him to prove his trustworthiness, somehow."  
  
"I told him he needs to go to therapy. Not just because of the trauma of the accident but he got bullied as a kid and it continues to affect him. I should really be in therapy myself, so I'm going to look into what I can do with therapy online to save myself time having to commute back and forth to a clinic, being able to squeeze in sessions here and there like maybe on a break or something."  
  
Nicholas hugged Sören hard. "That's a big step. I'm proud of you."  
  
"Hi Proud Of You -"  
  
Nicholas gave Sören a stern look, then he kissed the tip of Sören's nose, far less stern.  
  
"The other thing is," Sören said, "he stayed with those shitty friends he had for as long as he did because of his issues from being bullied... and now he has no friends, after the accident. I told him I don't want to be the only thing in his life, I don't want to be the only _person_ in his life. He needs to try to make some friends. If you could do it, if I could do it, he can do it."  
  
"I agree that would be healthier for him," Nicholas said, nodding. "As you know, I lived a rather solitary life and our chosen family has greatly enriched it."  
  
"Yeah." Sören sighed. "I wish Anthony had something like that. Not the fake bullshit 'squad' he used to run with..." Sören made air quotes, and made a face. "But real connections."  
  
"Well..." Nicholas stroked his chin thoughtfully. Sören braced himself. Their eyes met and Nicholas said, "How do you feel about inviting him to Sunday dinner?"  
  
"Nick." Sören was pleased and surprised... and a little worried. "I don't want to impose, if you'd rather it just be, you know... our squad." Sören chuckled. "The non-shitty squad."  
  
Nicholas laughed too.  
  
"And," Sören went on, "part of what went wrong with Anthony was he kept trying to make his friends be my friends and we didn't mesh. I don't want to make that same mistake -"  
  
"First of all, I think that you didn't mesh because he had, as you put it, the shitty 'squad'." Nicholas also made quotes. Then he facepalmed, chuckling again. "I can't believe I'm using slang."  
  
"Rapscallion was slang from, like, the ninth century. Just saying."  
  
Nicholas glared. "It was _not_ from _the ninth century_ , Sören Sigurðsson."  
  
"My bad. The third century." Sören patted him. "I guess you'd know it wasn't from the ninth century, because you were there."  
  
Nicholas swatted Sören's ass. Sören giggled, blew a raspberry into his shoulder, and then pinched Nicholas's cheek. Nicholas rolled his eyes but gave Sören an indulgent smile. "Brat," Nicholas said.  
  
Then Nicholas sobered, though his eyes were still twinkling, and he continued, "It's true that not everyone gets on with everyone. But we simply won't know until we try, and I daresay we have more going for us than Anthony's friends did. Probably more compatible interests -"  
  
"He likes cats, and gardening, and books. But Nick, you're sure this is OK?" Sören swallowed hard. "I don't want you to feel obligated, I don't want you to feel like our family time is being intruded on..."  
  
"If Anthony is going to be one of your partners, whether now or later, I feel it would be better if we were at least cordial with one another, if not friends," Nicholas said. "I was reluctant to the idea, yes, but I have been warming to it." Nicholas stroked Sören's chin. "I think it helps to receive the reassurances that you are not going anywhere. That you still... want me."  
  
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sören kissed the tip of his nose. "You're stuck with me." Then Sören looked at the cum dried on Nicholas's chest and stomach and snorted. "And just plain sticky."  
  
"Oh god." Nicholas turned beetroot.  
  
When they calmed down, Nicholas said, "So yes, please invite him to Sunday dinner, on my behalf, if you don't mind."  
  
"I don't mind," Sören said. "I'm seeing him on Friday, he's coming in to -"  
  
"Tell him now," Nicholas said, and grabbed Sören's cell from the bedtable, handing it to him. "In fact, I'll tell him myself, so that way he knows the invitation is sincere."  
  
Sören took the cell phone, impressed with Nicholas's instincts - he didn't know Anthony well, but nonetheless still seemed to know how Anthony would react. Sören speed-dialed Anthony's number, and when Anthony answered, Sören said, "Hey, Anthony, I have someone here who wants to ask you a question."  
  
"Oh god -"  
  
Sören handed the phone to Nicholas who asked, "Anthony, are you free Sunday night? I'd like you to come with the rest of our guests to dinner."  
  
  
_  
  
  
The next few days were filled with work, and chores, and cuddles. Sören thought of Anthony often, and wondered how Anthony would fare at family dinner.  
  
At last he didn't have to wonder. Sunday evening came, and with it Geir, Karen and Craig, and Ben and Pierre. Anthony arrived at six as expected, arriving with a chocolate cheesecake Elaine had made and insisted he bring.  
  
"Oh, that's tempting," Karen said, taking the cheesecake from him. With a naughty grin, she ran off like she was stealing it, running right into Sören, who snatched it from her with a kiss, before Sören came over to Anthony and gave him a hug.  
  
Anthony sat quietly on a sofa with Sören as Geir and Nicholas resumed their discussion about ballet... just listening, observing. Sören knew that Anthony wasn't just shy, but he was also paying attention, studying everyone like this was a courtroom. Geir was now talking about playing flute with the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House for different ballet productions, and more modern stories that he'd like to see adapted for ballet to reach a younger audience, while Nicholas predictably cringed.  
  
Then Ben said something completely predictable; Sören knew it was coming. "Jurassic Park: The Ballet."  
  
Geir and Nicholas both looked at Ben and said "NO" in unison.  
  
"Awwww come ONNNNNN," Sören said, not able to resist teasing them. "Dinosaurs wearing tutus! How could anyone resist that?"  
  
"Very easily," Nicholas said, and sipped his tea.  
  
Craig looked like he wanted to laugh but was restraining himself; Sören knew things were still tense and awkward between Craig and Ben, though they were at least back on speaking terms now. Not friends yet, maybe not friends again ever, but there wasn't the bristling hostility like there had been shortly after Craig's overdose.  
  
"You know what would be even better than dinosaurs in tutus, though?" Sören looked at Karen, then at Anthony, knowing this was a good time to bring Anthony into the conversation. "Barristers in tutus. There should be a ballet about barristers."  
  
" _Shan't_ ," Karen said, imitating Nicholas's sour face.  
  
Anthony gave Sören a look. "That's a terrible idea, even for you."  
  
"No, a terrible idea would be a ballet about barristers, set to the music of ABBA." Sören grinned.  
  
Ben pointed. "Barristers _and_ dinosaurs, set to the music of ABBA."  
  
Sören raised his glass of wine. "This is why we're friends."  
  
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose, and Sören couldn't help but laugh at the pained expression on his face. Then he opened his mouth, and Sören wondered if he was going to make a witty riposte, but instead he said, "Actually, speaking of ballet..."  
  
Nicholas got up and went to a bookshelf. He produced a hollow book - he had exactly five, and Sören knew where they all were - and took out a long envelope. "I was going to wait until your birthday to give this to you, but it occurred to me you'd probably want more time than that to prepare, so here."  
  
Nicholas came over to Karen, handed her the envelope, and sat back down beside her. Karen gingerly opened the envelope and then she gasped as she produced a pair of tickets. Sören's breath caught at the radiant smile on her face, pure joy, and he burned it into his mind, wanting to always remember her that way. But his heart also sang for Nicholas and his generosity - whatever Nicholas had given her, had to be special.  
  
"It's a pair of tickets to see _Sleeping Beauty_ ," Karen said.  
  
Geir was, of course playing flute for that performance. But even wthout the magic of Gil's flute, the ballet was stunning. Sören never thought he'd be into ballet before meeting Nicholas. It was one of the ways Nicholas had expanded his world, and he was grateful to Nicholas for it. Ballet was art.  
  
"When is it?" Pierre asked.  
  
"Saturday, August twenty-ninth. The day after my birthday," Karen said. "I can see why you didn't want to wait, Dad. That's coming up soon..."  
  
"Yes." Nicholas nodded. "I hope you don't mind that I presented you with the tickets here, rather than waiting to do it privately -"  
  
"Not at all." Karen looked at the tickets again and then she gave a little scream. "And such good seats! You really went all out."  
  
Nicholas patted her, smiling.  
  
"And seriously, Dad, the birthday party and dinner would have been enough." Karen shook her head at him. "You spoil me..."  
  
"I like having family to spoil," Nicholas said.  
  
Karen waved the tickets at Sören. "Do you want to go with me to see _Sleeping Beauty_?"  
  
"I see Sleeping Beauty right here," Sören said, not able to resist flirting.  
  
"Oh, you." Karen smirked.  
  
Then Sören just grinned and nodded. "I'd love to, _takk.”_  
  
Karen then turned and looked at Anthony, her gaze laser-focus. Sören had a feeling of what she was going to ask, and she confirmed it by saying, "Anthony, do you have plans the night of the twenty-eighth?"  
  
Anthony shook his head.  
  
"Would you like to come to my birthday party? Nicholas is taking everyone out to dinner and I asked him about it and he said I could invite you. Then we'll come back here for cake, maybe board games." Karen looked hopeful.  
  
Anthony hesitated, shifting awkwardly in his seat, and Sören worried that he was going to say no, but then Anthony gave a small nod and said, "What time?"  
  
"Seven," Karen said. "I believe the dinner is happening at Balthazar?" Karen looked at Nicholas, who nodded. "It's fairly close."  
  
"Their food is amazing," Sören said. "Just for that alone, you need to come."  
  
"OK." Anthony exhaled sharply and straightened his posture. He gave a shy little smile. "I will. Thanks for inviting me."  
  
"You're welcome." Karen nodded.  
  
Sören put an arm around Anthony and pulled him over for a squeeze, although that got his blood stirring again and he quickly let go. But he hoped that touch would be reassuring. And though he didn't want to impose, he nonetheless couldn't help but hope his friends would become Anthony's friends too.


	11. One Step Forward

"Are you quite sure you don't want me to go in with you?"  
  
"Mum. _Mother._ "  
  
Anthony felt a little guilty, hearing the exasperation in his voice - Elaine was only trying to help, and he knew that other people would give their eyeteeth to have supportive parents... like Sören, whose guardians had been the opposite of supportive. But Anthony felt bad enough that his mother was taking the time to drive him to and from appointments - yes, she was retired, but she still had a life - and he felt like he would look ridiculous, the only adult in the waiting room whose mummy had to sit with him. Even two decades after the fact, Anthony still vividly remembered the bullying he'd endured as a kid. _Mummy's boy. F*g._ Being chased up into a tree, stones thrown at him on his way up, crying. _Cry for your mummy, f*g._  
  
Anthony reached to put his arms around his mother, to soften the harsh tone of his words. "I'm sorry. I'm just... keyed up." He looked at the building of the mental health clinic, and back at his mother. "Nerves."  
  
Elaine patted him with a reassuring little smile. "I know, dear." She pinched Anthony's cheek. "That was why I offered to go in with you, I know how nervous you are..."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But this is just... something I need to do for myself." That was true, too, Anthony already felt like an idiot for getting professional help, never mind clinging to his mother in the waiting room. He didn't want to be so needy, so reliant on other people. It was bad enough he needed Sören the way he did, to the point where he was willing to endure the indignity of going to therapy to get him back.  
  
Elaine kissed his cheek. "Go on, then. Give me a ring when your session is over and I'll drive back to pick you up." Elaine was going to browse some shops nearby while Anthony was in the office, and though Anthony's session was for an hour, Anthony knew from experience with other appointments that it could run overtime or finish a little early.  
  
"OK. Thank you, Mum." Anthony climbed out of the car and waved over his shoulder before he began limping towards the clinic. He was approaching the building just as another person was, a woman, young-looking, a little too thin - she was wearing short sleeves in the late August heat and Anthony noticed very obvious scars on her arms, which looked either like heroin tracks or self-injury scars, perhaps both - and she looked at him, noticing his cane, noticing the way he shuffled with the cane. Anthony's heart beat faster, fighting the urge to get back in his mother's car and say _fuck this_ , not wanting anyone to see him like this and pity him, and the urge of flight got stronger when the young woman held open the door for him. Anthony mumbled his thanks as he stepped through, face on fire. Before the accident, he would have held open the door for _her_ , or anyone else as common courtesy. _Don't you fucking pity me._ It became a mantra with each step. _Don't you fucking pity me. Don't you fucking dare pity me._  
  
Anthony braced himself, preparing for unwanted small talk, but the woman walked ahead of him without saying anything, and Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. He gathered she was probably just as uncomfortable with strangers as he was. The truth was, Anthony had always been uncomfortable with strangers, and had to get in the habit of "faking it" to handle clients and the courtroom. But after the accident, that discomfort was on an amplifier. And now Anthony was embarrassed by how embarrassed he was at having a door held open for him. _It's just a bloody door. She was just being polite._  
  
Anthony preferred to err on the side of arriving early for appointments, which had been true even before the accident had made him need extra time for getting around. In addition to wanting to have time to spare to walk to the building and to the waiting room, he also knew that with this being his first appointment he'd have paperwork to fill out for intake. Now he approached the desk, feeling that rush of nausea as he couldn't avoid having to talk to a stranger. He gently cleared his throat as the secretary looked up at him. "Hewlett-Johnson," he said. "I have a 10 o'clock appointment with Helen Bennett."  
  
The secretary smiled at him, and after checking identification and insurance, he was given a clipboard and took a seat, preferring to sit in the corner with a few empty seats between him and others, back to the wall, in clear view of the exit. The paperwork was routine, and Anthony found himself pausing at the place to write the date and make his signature. Even though he was usually good about remembering dates, especially when he had appointments, his mind drew a blank for a moment because of nerves. It didn't help that since the accident, he was home so much that one day blurred into the other. Anthony jogged his memory; it was Monday, August twenty-fourth. "Right," he said under his breath as he wrote the date, feeling like an idiot.  
  
He went back to the desk with his paperwork, and then he sat down again. He still had some time to kill before the appointment started. There was a table with magazines on it, and a magazine rack closer to the door, and though the selection wasn't entirely terrible, with some _National Geographic_ issues among the fashion and health magazines and celebrity gossip rags, Anthony felt too wound up to read. He found himself reaching for his phone - working on languages on Duolingo helped calm his nerves, making him switch gears mentally more than reading in English did - and now he began a lesson on Duolingo, on the Norwegian course. When he got close to the end of the lesson the app asked him to translate the sentence:  
  
 _Han viser typiske symptomer på depresjon._  
  
The correct translation was _"He is showing typical symptoms of depression."_ "Way to call me out, Duo," Anthony muttered under his breath, then realized he had said it aloud. _Great. I'm talking to a green cartoon owl like he can understand me, and these people think I'm talking to my phone and of course that doesn't look crazy at all._  
  
Anthony finished the lesson and leveled up, with the phone blaring horns of triumph that made Anthony wish he'd turned the volume off. He glanced around the room, feeling sheepish, but there were only two other people in the room besides the secretary and they were both focused on other things - the young woman who held the door open for him was reading a magazine, and an older woman appeared to be playing a game on her phone.  
  
Then a voice called out, "Mr. Hewlett-Johnson?"  
  
Anthony looked in its direction. The voice belonged to a woman who looked to be in her early to mid-thirties, tall, hourglass figure, brown skin, sweet brown eyes, a pretty face, curly dark hair worn natural and loose to her chin, wearing a smart navy pantsuit with a white shirt. Anthony stood up and she extended a French-manicured hand with a diamond tennis bracelet. "I'm Helen Bennett. Follow me, please?" She gave a reassuring smile as she turned and led the way down the long hall.  
  
Helen Bennett had a strong, confident stride, and when it became apparent that Anthony was moving slowly on his cane, Helen slowed down. Her office was of course at the very end of the hall, which made Anthony grumble under his breath - that sort of walk wasn't as bad as it once was, but it was still longer than he would have preferred. Anthony took a chair by the door as soon as he stepped into the office.  
  
Helen's office reminded him a little of his at Garden Court Chambers - the same dark wood panels, a big desk, and a high-backed leather swivel chair. But her office was also a lot homier than his. There was a blue plaid couch along one wall, piled with pillows and blankets and a couple of plush animals. There was a shelf on the wall opposite the couch that had toys like a fidget spinner, koosh balls, a tube filled with glittery fluid, and a few vinyl toys that looked stretchy or squishy, including a shark, to Anthony's amusement. Then Anthony swallowed hard as Helen poured herself a coffee from a coffeemaker plugged in on a shelf behind her desk. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" Helen asked.  
  
"Er, yes, please."  
  
"How do you take your coffee?"  
  
"Two sugars, light cream."  
  
Anthony felt a little weird about his therapist waiting on him, she wasn't a servant, but he also knew it was a courtesy since she'd seen him struggling to move around, and it was yet another reminder of his condition, yet another thing that made him uncomfortable. Still, he knew she was trying to be polite, and he accepted the coffee with a thanks.  
  
Helen saw Anthony looking at the stuffed animals and the toys again, lips quirked with amusement. Anthony said what he was thinking. "Did my information get mixed up? Are you a child psychologist?"  
  
Helen laughed and shook her head. "No. Those are all for adult clients. Sometimes therapy sessions can get intense, and it can be comforting to hold a soft toy, or knead out stress with squeezing a koosh ball."  
  
"I see." Anthony felt like an idiot again for not realizing that - _of course_ therapy could get intense, that was part of the point - and he felt dread slide over him like a shadow. That was also exactly what he didn't want.  
  
"So, Mr. Hewlett-Johnson -"  
  
"Please, Ms. Bennett, call me Anthony."  
  
"You can call me Helen, and fair, Anthony." Helen smiled. She leaned back in her chair. "What brings you here?"  
  
Anthony almost spat his coffee. He looked at his cane, propped up against the arm of his chair, and then at Helen. "It's not obvious?"  
  
"Not everyone with a physical handicap goes into counseling because of it, so no, it's not obvious, Anthony. Besides, I'd rather hear in your own words."  
  
"Right." Anthony looked down. For all of his ability to put speeches together and sway a courtroom, he felt at an absolute loss for words now. He'd known for weeks the therapy session was coming, he'd been on a waitlist. But it was one thing to plan an introduction in his head and another thing to be sitting here, now, with Helen's kind eyes watching him. He felt like he wasn't just under a spotlight, but like he was a deer trapped in headlights, ready to be run over by the truth of everything that had gone wrong over the last two years, and with the road leading up to that years beforehand. He knew his problems weren't even as bad as some people, like most of the clients he'd had since he joined Lincoln's Inn, and yet he still felt fierce shame. When he looked back up, he found himself looking away, staring at the shark on the shelf, which felt like a metaphor for his life - it was a squishy, toothless shark, no harm to anyone, comical-looking; he had once put fear in Crown Prosecution as the Shark of Lincoln's Inn, and he knew if any of them could see him right now they would laugh at him.  
  
There was a clock on the wall on the other side of the shelf, above the side of Helen's desk, and Anthony glanced at it, realizing he had limited time with an hour session. He was just going to have to say whatever came into his head, whether it sounded articulate or not, whether it even made sense or not. He also knew that he was going to have to be radically honest with a mental health professional even if what he said reflected badly on him, not dissimilar to how he had to be honest with his doctor about his sexual history.  
  
"My ex sent me here," Anthony said. "Well... he's... sort of my ex. We both want to get back together, but his terms for that are me getting some counseling."  
  
That was the first big hurdle. Though Anthony knew there was less homophobia in England nowadays, he was still wary - he was not closeted, but he was out on a need-to-know basis, preferring not to broach the subject of anything to do with his personal life unless he felt the person he was speaking to had a reason to know. In this particular case, mentioning his partner had been male was necessary in the interest of honesty, as well as Anthony's own comfort levels. He gauged Helen's reactions now for any sign of discomfort, prepared to terminate the relationship and find another therapist if it seemed she wasn't OK with him being gay. But then she opened up a drawer in her desk and pulled out a rainbow coffee mug. "I'm a lesbian," she said, "if you're worried about what you just said."  
  
"Oh thank god." Anthony gave a little nervous laugh of relief. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't care whether my therapist is straight or not -"  
  
"It's quite understandable. So, go on... why does your sort-of-ex think you need counseling?"  
  
Anthony's nervous laugh got harder and he facepalmed, face on fire. He rubbed his face like an annoyed wet cat. "It's a big, complicated mess."  
  
"Well, let's tackle it one piece at a time. You hinted that your handicap is part of why you're here?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "I was in a car accident in March. I wasn't the driver at fault - the other driver was intoxicated, ran a light, crashed into my car... and the other driver is dead now." He decided to just speak the name aloud, again, feeling honesty was the best policy. "Justin Roberts. Hailed as the next Beckham. When the information was leaked, some football supporters bricked my flat in Kingston."  
  
"That sounds very, very rough," Helen said.  
  
"It was. I have physical therapy twice a week, and it's grueling. I can walk better now than I did in the first few weeks after the accident, and to all accounts it'll be a little better still by the end of the year, but... this is the new normal. I can't run anymore. I will need a wheelchair for long distances, like getting around an airport. I use a chair in the shower. I feel powerless, and it's depressing."  
  
"I'm guessing the accident itself was traumatic," Helen said.  
  
Anthony sighed. "Yeah. Even though I know I wasn't the one at fault, I still... feel..."  
  
"Survivor's guilt," Helen said. "There's a term for that."  
  
"Yes. Survivor's guilt." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and winced, then sipped his coffee. "He was still in his twenties. He had a long life ahead of him, a promising career... I didn't know him, but I still feel bad."  
  
"It's a normal, common feeling in these sorts of situations, but you are right that it wasn't your fault."  
  
"I keep telling myself that. Maybe someday my brain will listen." Anthony frowned, and finished his coffee. He put the styrofoam cup down, feeling fidgety, but not wanting to take one of the toys from the shelf, self-conscious about the fidget urge. He'd been very fidgety as a child and gotten made fun of for it.  
  
"Are you doing things to distract yourself? Are you working?"  
  
"I haven't worked since the accident," Anthony said. "I'm a barrister at Lincoln's Inn. I haven't quit, my job is still there when I feel ready to return, but the problem is I don't know if that day will ever come. I have anxiety attacks when I go out in public, never mind all eyes on me in a courtroom."  
  
"Are you taking anything for anxiety?"  
  
"I'm on an antidepressant," Anthony said. "It helps, but only just so. Are you..." Anthony felt a flare of anxiety now. "Are you saying I should go on more meds?"  
  
"I'm only a therapist, I'm not licensed to prescribe." Helen gave him a small, apologetic smile. "That would be something to discuss with your doctor. But if you're having regular panic attacks, an anti-anxiety medication may be worth asking about." Then Helen sipped her own coffee, glancing at him over her cup. "So, did you and your ex break up because of how the accident affected your mental health? Is that why he told you to get counseling?"  
  
Anthony gave another nervous laugh... and wanted to cry. "That's some of it, but that's not all."  
  
Helen waited.  
  
Anthony resisted the urge to grab his cane and bolt - not that he could run anymore, at best he could try to limp quickly for a few paces and wish he hadn't. He closed his eyes, face burning, stomach sinking, as he said, "My ex... Sören... and I broke up close to two years ago. He was working a hundred hours a week, he's a neurosurgeon. I ended up feeling lonely and sexually frustrated and needy and I cheated on him. It was just sex, and it was just once, but I fucked up." Anthony opened his eyes, blurry with tears. "It sounds like I'm blaming him, like I'm saying it's his fault, and... no. I take responsibility for my actions, I shouldn't have done it, I should have swallowed my pride and told him how much I was drowning..." Anthony's voice broke, and trailed off. _Oh god._ Anthony logically knew people cried at therapist's offices, and Helen had probably seen it a thousand times before, just like Anthony himself had seen many of his clients cry, as a barrister... but he was still embarrassed.  
  
Helen pushed a box of tissues towards the edge of her desk. Anthony got up, took the box, and sat back down. "You must think I'm the scum of the earth," Anthony said.  
  
"No, you'd have to compete with Hitler and Jack the Ripper and a lot of other people." Helen sipped her coffee and put her mug down, tilting her head to one side. "So the infidelity was the cause of the breakup?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "Like I said, it was once, it was just sex, no strings attached, but Sören came home early from work that day, he had flu, and he caught me." What Anthony didn't say aloud was how much that unnerved him to this day - he and Sören had been finely attuned to each other, knowing when something was wrong without being told; Sören had once felt Anthony was in some sort of danger and found out later there had been a bomb threat at Lincoln's Inn. Anthony wondered if Sören catching the flu despite having a flu shot was his body's internal warning system to go home and see what was happening there, and of course that sounded daft, so Anthony wasn't going to tell his therapist that, even though he knew if he was delusional, it was a problem. But Anthony also knew that he wasn't experiencing other symptoms of psychosis, just the occasional "magical thinking" like moments of empathy with Sören.  
  
And the shared dreams. Anthony wondered if Sören dreamed about their "past life" anymore, since the breakup.  
  
Anthony forced himself to focus on the present, and the background context he was giving the therapist. "Sören says, though, that the infidelity was more of a symptom than a cause. He..." Now he really wanted to bolt, feeling stupid again. "I could have told him how I was feeling, and I didn't. Because of pride. He says that's what got in the way, and that's why he sent me here. He and I have talked about getting back together, but... he knows I'm having a hard time and..." Anthony didn't know how to finish that sentence. He exhaled sharply. "He wants me, I suppose, to talk about my issues rather than bottling them up."  
  
"The stiff upper lip," Helen said. "It's deeply ingrained in English culture."  
  
"Yes. My father is even worse with emotions than I am." Anthony loved his father, and he wouldn't characterize their relationship as bad, but it was just a fact that Roger Hewlett-Johnson was not good with feelings, and though Anthony was a high-strung child prone to meltdowns, he had eventually learned to suppress his own feelings as well, not as much as his father did, but still enough - and too much, he knew. One of the reasons why he'd been so taken with Sören was, from the first day they'd met, Sören was all feelings. He would never forget the spitfire look in Sören's eyes as Sören spoke honestly about a colleague charged with criminal malpractice, and the way he'd challenged Anthony for defending that man. The fire in his eyes, in his voice, had been arousing... and it was also _refreshing_ , and he felt like he could let his guard down with Sören in a way he hadn't been able to before.  
  
"And how is your relationship with your parents, Anthony?"  
  
"Good." Anthony thought of his mother, and realized she'd know he'd been crying and was going to make a fuss over him. _Mummy's boy,_ the school bullies taunted in his head. "I moved back home after the accident, after my flat was bricked. My mum drove me here." Anthony was embarrassed by that, too. He knew he probably would never drive again, after the panic attack he'd had after trying to get behind the wheel of a car back in May, and he _hated_ that. Of all the ways his life had changed after the accident, that seemed to be one of the unkindest cuts of all. He had loved his Audi, and he had loved driving. In his mind's eye, he remembered driving Sören out to Brighton, windows rolled down, Sören's curls blowing in the breeze.  
  
"I'm glad your parents are supportive. That's important."  
  
There was a long, awkward pause, as if Helen was considering all the information she'd been given thus far. Anthony felt like he was waiting for a verdict in the courtroom, and kept looking at the clock. He also kept looking at the shelf of toys, resisting the urge to take the fidget spinner and spin it around, like an overgrown kid.  
  
At last Helen broke the silence. "So in a nutshell, you're here because your ex, Sören, said getting back together was contingent on you going into therapy."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"As opposed to coming here because you decided on your own you need professional help."  
  
 _Oh shit._ Anthony squirmed, but then steadied himself, trying to get back some of his old courtroom composure. "He's not _forcing_ me, he obviously doesn't have a gun to my head saying 'do this or else' -"  
  
"That's not what I asked, Anthony. Let me phrase this another way: if your ex had not said that getting back together was contingent on you receiving professional help, you wouldn't be in my office right now, would you?"  
  
Anthony sighed. "No, probably not." He squirmed again, his composure blown. He kicked himself internally - if he was ever going to return to work someday, he needed to not react like this. That was one of the many things he disliked about the way his life had changed, the longer he was gone from the courtroom, the harder it was for him to put the mask back on that he'd carefully crafted for the courtroom performance. And then he realized he'd said "the wrong answer", that he had just admitted he didn't really want to be here - Sören wasn't forcing him, but he wasn't entirely here of his free will either, he was here because he loved Sören and he would walk through fire to get Sören back. "Am I... am I in trouble now? Are you going to tell me you can't help me?"  
  
Helen gave a small frown. "I didn't say that, but I will admit that it will be harder to help you if you don't truly want to be helped, if you don't feel that you actually need to be here."  
  
Anthony looked at his cane, and looked at the stretchy squishy shark on the shelf, and he felt the tears coming again, and he hated it... and he knew then that this powerless feeling he had, he truly _did_ need help and he was afraid of admitting it, afraid and deeply ashamed of his own weakness. He nodded. "I know I need to be here. Not just because of Sören, but because..." Anthony shuddered. "When I woke up from the accident, I wished I hadn't. I'm not suicidal _now_ , but -"  
  
"But it's been difficult, hasn't it?"  
  
Anthony nodded again. He couldn't hold the tears back anymore, and got up to grab more tissues from the desk. This time he just took the box and put it in the empty chair next to him, which he guessed the two chairs together were for couples or a client and a family member or supportive friend. Having the empty chair next to him just reinforced that feeling of loneliness - he had Sören back in his life, and he had his parents, but he really had _no one_ apart from that, and Sören had the kind of schedule where Sören couldn't be his everything. And yet, Anthony hated that he couldn't be more self-reliant, that he needed so much. "I don't want to need help. I don't want to be here. I feel..." Anthony took a deep breath. "One of the hardest things about all of this is how weak and helpless I feel. It's a blow to my pride. Yes, my pride was a problem before. But this is also a problem. I feel like I shouldn't need to be here, like..." _Like I'm twelve all over again, just fallen out of a tree, afraid of the world._  
  
"Anthony." Helen compelled him to meet her eyes, warm and full of compassion. "There is no shame in admitting that you need help."  
  
Anthony gave a bitter laugh. "You're paid to help people, of course you'd say that."  
  
"No. I went into this line of work because I truly believe that, and if you search your heart, you will know that to be true, since I'm sure you also went into your line of work to help people." Helen folded her hands on her desk. "It is not a sign of weakness to get professional help. It is a sign of _strength_ to know you have things you need to work on, and start working on them."  
  
"I wish I could believe that."  
  
Helen gave a small sigh. "Anthony, if I dropped you into the middle of the Amazon rainforest right now, you'd be lost, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Well, yes."  
  
"But, if a GPS device dropped down from a passing plane, and gave you instructions on how to find your way out, you'd take it, right?"  
  
"...Yes."  
  
"That's a lot like what therapy is. I can't carry you out of the rainforest. I can't fight off whatever wild creatures you might encounter in the rainforest, I can't get you food and water in the rainforest, you're going to have to do all that work yourself. What I can do is help give you pointers for the way out. And if you were dropped into the middle of the rainforest and you took a GPS device that dropped down from the sky, you wouldn't think you were weak or wrong for needing it, would you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Life gets us all lost sometimes, some more than others. And one of the hardest parts of the journey is admitting you're lost, admitting you need help finding the way out. But you've also taken the first step forward, today, just by virtue of coming here. You're already one step closer to getting home."  
  
Anthony fell apart, weeping harder. He hated crying like this in front of someone he barely knew, but Helen was trying to smile at him reassuringly, and she finally got up, picked a pillow up from the couch, and handed it to him. Anthony continued to cry as he hugged the pillow but a few minutes later he was calmer.  
  
"I won't make you false promises, I won't give you platitudes, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. Nothing will be as it was before. But you can get through this." Helen made a fist of solidarity.  
  
Anthony wasn't so sure, but he was willing to try.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sure enough, Elaine could tell Anthony had been crying during the therapy session, and before she took off on the road back to Blackheath, she gave him a long hug.  
  
Elaine gave Anthony his space after the hug, letting him process that first appointment in silence, but once they got back to the villa, Elaine made them tea and wanted to chat about it.  
  
"How was your therapist? What were they like?"  
  
"She," Anthony said. "She seems nice. She's about my age. She told me she's a lesbian."  
  
"Oh good, now you won't have to worry you're seeing someone possibly homophobic." Elaine wrinkled her nose with distaste. "Even though one would question why someone with that sort of narrow mind would get into a helping profession in the first place."  
  
"Plenty of bad people get off on thinking they're good people," Anthony said bitterly, sipping his tea, thinking about all the so-called "respectable" clients he'd had where one would never know what sort of monsters they truly were if they hadn't gotten caught. One of the only good things he could say about not working was he didn't have to deal with any of those people.  
  
"I suppose," Elaine said. "In any case, I'm glad she seems nice. And you'll be seeing her once a week?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "She wanted to go for twice a week sessions but I told her that would be too much. I don't want to be at appointments every bloody day."  
  
"Well, technically between physical therapy twice a week and counseling twice a week, that's only four days -"  
  
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and gave his mother a stern look, though part of him felt bad, not wanting to be cross with his mother. "That's four out of five weekdays, it might as well be every day."  
  
"I'm sorry." Elaine's face fell. "I was only trying to say, it wouldn't be a bother to me if you felt you needed twice weekly -"  
  
"I don't." Those words came out more vehemently than Anthony intended, like he had lashed a whip. Elaine recoiled and now Anthony's guilt intensified. Anthony took a deep breath, trying to calm down before he made it worse. More gently, he went on, "As it is, I would rather not even do once weekly, but I'm inclined to agree with Sören that I probably should be in professional help."  
  
"And I'm sure he doesn't think any less of you for that. Sören is a doctor, after all, he likely views counseling as being not much different than seeing any other sort of specialist to fix you up."  
  
Though Anthony knew Elaine's words were meant well, part of him bristled at the way it was worded. "Fix you up. Like I'm..."  
  
"Oh, sweetheart, no, that's... not what I meant." Elaine blinked, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I wasn't trying to imply there's anything wrong with you -"  
  
Anthony got up from the table abruptly, remembering to grab his cane just in time before he faceplanted. "There's everything wrong with me." He felt like some sort of wound had been ripped open in therapy, and he was bleeding out.  
  
He went to his room, and as he stepped inside and looked up at his poster of Gavin Rossdale sweaty and shirtless, he thought to himself, _I really_ am _a helpless, powerless teenager all over again._  
  
Anthony flopped down on his bed, put in his earbuds, and just lay there for awhile, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Nirvana - if he felt like an angsty teenager all over again he might as well play the soundtrack of his teenage angst. But rather than make him feel better, he just felt his internal gears spinning more and more and more, until he ended up taking his earbuds out and throwing them and his mp3 player against the wall...  
  
...then feeling immediately awkward about the display of violence, even if it was very minor. It wasn't like him. He wasn't used to feeling this angry, though he was familiar with the feeling - the same feeling he used to feel when he came home from school as a kid. The same feeling he felt when he lost a case.  
  
He needed to get out for a bit. He found himself walking. Leaving the house, going down the street, and down, and down.  
  
He realized he was going to Greenleaf, that somehow being surrounded by books was comforting, each book its own little world. Books had been one of the ways he'd escaped as a teenager. He had things to read at home, but he didn't own every book in the world.  
  
When he stepped into the bookstore, he thought fondly of when he and Karen had visited Greenleaf together. Then he remembered - her birthday was on Friday, and he hadn't gone shopping for her birthday gift yet.  
  
 _That will give me something else to think about._ Anthony was on a mission.  
  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony spent long enough in Greenleaf that his mother finally called his cell phone, once again sending Anthony back into that "awkward teenager" headspace, a boy whose mummy was checking up on him.  
  
Anthony didn't even say "hello" when he answered, but simply, "I'm fine."  
  
"All right. Just making sure."  
  
"I'm at Greenleaf."  
  
"Are you coming back soon?"  
  
Anthony had, in fact, planned on coming back soon, but feeling that irritation with his mother again - and the guilt for feeling like this, not wanting to be annoyed with her, not wanting to fight the urge to say _just because I'm handicapped doesn't mean I'm going to fall into a bloody ditch while I'm out_ \- he decided he needed more time out of the house, he wasn't going back just yet. That said, he didn't want to stay in Greenleaf much longer either, because now it was afternoon and more people were coming in.  
  
"It'll be a few hours. I..." And of course, Anthony's first thought of comfort was Sören. "Think I'm going to go visit Sören." And after he paid for the book he was buying for Karen's birthday present, he called a cab.  
  
It wasn't until the cab was over halfway to Covent Garden that Anthony realized he'd been in such a state that he'd completely forgotten to double-check Sören's schedule and see when Sören was getting off work. He pulled out his phone and he started to dial Sören's number, then he realized Sören might be in surgery and he had better text, which would be less bothersome if Sören hadn't shut his phone off. So he fired off a text message.  
  
 _Hi, can I come over?_  
  
To Anthony's surprise and relief, Sören replied two minutes later. _Now?_  
  
 _If you don't mind. I'm already most of the way to Covent Garden._  
  
Anthony waited for Sören's response, and a minute later Sören texted back _I'm not home, I still have another two hours on my shift, but if you don't mind waiting around, Nick will let you in._  
  
Anthony _did_ mind waiting around - the thought of two hours alone in Sören's flat with Nicholas Decaux made the day's earlier awkwardness look like a stroll in the park - but now that he had already let Sören know he was well on the way, he knew it would be even more awkward for him to tell the cab driver to turn back. At least Nicholas had a cat, and that would make it more bearable. _OK._  
  
When the cab let him off outside the brick building that Nicholas and Sören lived in, Anthony swallowed hard, looking up at the building with a sense of dread, steps leaden as he hobbled out of the cab. He felt uncomfortable all over again. He could tell Nicholas had a similar razor-sharp sense of observation that he did, and being around Nicholas for any length of time felt like being under a microscope, felt like he was being scrutinized down to every little movement, every breath. He also knew it was very understandable, considering what he'd done - Sören might have forgiven him, but Anthony had a feeling that Nicholas had to do a lot of damage control before he walked back into Sören's life, that it was probably no easy task for Nicholas to pick up the broken pieces of Sören's heart, and so Nicholas very likely hadn't forgiven him. And if their situations were reversed, Anthony knew he'd be carefully watching Nicholas if he even allowed Nicholas around Sören at all, and he thought Nicholas was a better man than he was because he knew that would probably be a no. Anthony knew that Nicholas had every reason to dislike him and distrust him, and it was intensely awkward since, as they were both sharing Sören, or eventually would be again, it created a sort of tension when it would have been much more natural and less stressful for them to be friends.  
  
But also, Anthony knew part of his discomfort with Nicholas was that the older man was so bloody _attractive_ , and even as thinking of Sören in bed with Nicholas made him feel jealous and lonely, the thought also aroused him, the mental images of Sören and Nicholas together incredibly delicious. He didn't want to find Sören's partner attractive, especially not now when he was feeling like such a trainwreck and Nicholas had it so much more together.  
  
Anthony swallowed hard as he got in the elevator. He wasn't claustrophobic like Sören was, but the doors closing in on the tiny lift felt like the jaws of death. Anthony closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves and steel himself, preparing to meet Nicholas.  
  
As he approached the door, it opened when he was just a few steps away - Anthony realized Sören probably called or texted Nicholas to warn him - and then to Anthony's surprise it wasn't Nicholas at the door, but Geir.  
  
That was somehow even worse. Anthony had been expecting Nicholas; he had not been expecting Geir.  
  
Geir, who was also very attractive, the same towering height as Nicholas, with a black fauxhawk and goatee, smouldering good looks, piercing blue eyes. The body of an athlete, moving gracefully, powerfully. Even in black jeans and a black T-shirt, Geir looked elegant, leaning against the doorframe.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said. "Um, is Nicholas here? Sören told me I could stop by and wait for him -"  
  
"He's grocery shopping, but you can come in."  
  
So now Anthony was going to be alone with Geir for at least a little while, possibly longer than a little while depending on how long ago Nicholas had left and how much he was planning on getting at the store. Anthony took a seat on the couch and Geir sat in one of the armchairs. Anthony put the Greenleaf bag down on the floor by his seat; the sound of a heavy paper bag crinkling brought out Tobias, who came over to explore the bag, then sniffed Anthony, headbutted Anthony's hand, and climbed onto his's lap, purring loudly. Anthony began to stroke the cat, soothed by the loud purr - this was exactly what he needed after a day like this. Geir let Anthony tend to the cat for a moment before he asked, "Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?"  
  
"Er... will he mind?"  
  
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Anthony felt like an idiot - obviously if Nicholas trusted Geir to be here alone in the flat while he was gone, Nicholas probably didn't mind Geir using his kitchen. Geir laughed on his way into the kitchen. "There's fresh coffee," Geir said.  
  
"That would be fine, thank you."  
  
Geir brought them coffee and there were a few moments of awkward silence, where they kept looking at each other but saying nothing. Finally Anthony broke the ice. "So Nicholas just lets you hang around when he's not here?"  
  
Geir nodded. "Karen and I both have key privileges and have had them for awhile now. And Nicholas and Sören each have a key to our place. I came by after orchestra practice to show Nicholas a video from practice, since one of the dancers recorded us, it's not a great quality video but it's still classical music and it's something that interests Nicholas. But he was already on his way out, so he told me I could hang around here while he shops, and later when Sören gets back we can all watch it together." Geir smiled. "I guess that means you too, if you're waiting for Sören."  
  
"I. Ah." Anthony fidgeted. "You don't mind?"  
  
"I wouldn't ask you if I minded." Then Geir snickered and put a hand to his forehead, making a swooning gesture. "Oh yes, it's simply top secret business, my being a flautist, something other people must never, ever see." He laughed again and shook his head. "Seriously, it's fine. If it's not going to bore you to tears, that is."  
  
"I've always liked classical music – all types of music, mostly," Anthony said, "but it's a bit more interesting now that I know someone who plays flute." Anthony tried to not let his mind go in the gutter with the potential innuendo, staring at the cat and his coffee.  
  
"Sören said he was never really into classical, but now that he's been to my concerts, and the ballet, he considers it an art. He wants to paint me playing the flute."  
  
"He should," Anthony said, nodding, even though he'd never seen Geir play, but he imagined if Geir was with the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, he was good. "Sören has a way with the paintbrush. It's magical." Anthony gave a little wistful sigh then, remembering that he'd been captured by that paintbrush a few times, and in most of those instances he wasn't wearing any clothing.  
  
Geir smirked into his coffee, and Anthony had a strong suspicion then that Geir hadn't just seen Sören's art, Geir had seen _those_ paintings. "Oh god," Anthony said. "Oh god, you've... you've seen it, haven't you. _That._ "  
  
Geir nodded solemnly.  
  
Anthony facepalmed. "Fuck me." Then he realized how that sounded - then he realized how that sounded was making him flustered - and he wanted to crawl under the couch and die. "I mean," Anthony stammered, "I'm sorry. I. Oh god, this is awkward -"  
  
"It was nice work." Geir's smirk became a grin. "And you and Sören looked very happy together."  
  
Anthony had chosen that moment to sip his coffee and almost ended up wearing it. "That's one way of putting it."  
  
There was another long pause, Anthony's face on fire, Tobias purring like nothing awkward and uncomfortable was happening at all. Anthony stroked the cat some more, and finally Geir asked, "So how was your day? I take it you weren't just in the neighborhood."  
  
"I wasn't," Anthony said, not wanting to deal with yet another observant person. "I... needed to get out."  
  
"Rough day?"  
  
Anthony didn't want to say yes, but he knew if he lied it was going to cause problems for him, especially because _Sören_ would know he was having a rough day. So Anthony nodded. "I had my first therapy session today."  
  
"Ohhh, yes, Sören told me that one of his terms for you guys getting back together was you going to counseling."  
  
 _Thanks, Sören._ But Anthony knew he couldn't be too irritated with Sören about that - Geir was one of Sören's partners too, and one of Sören's friends, and it made sense that something weighing heavily on Sören's mind would be discussed with the people closest to him. "Yeah. So... therapy happened. Asking me why I was there, and..." Anthony shook his head, his irritation turning on himself. "She said there was no shame in it, but I still feel like a mess."  
  
"We're all a mess, one way or the other," Geir said.  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes at Geir. "You have a career. You're able-bodied. You have friends. You have a lover -"  
  
"Lovers, plural."  
  
Anthony's eyebrows shot up, wondering if that was part of the reason why he was hanging around Nicholas by himself. "You and Ni -"  
  
Geir started laughing like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "No. I mean, that would probably make Sören's entire year, the pervert, but no, Nicholas and I are not _like that._ He _is_ like the father I never had. I never knew. No, the other lover I was referring to was Pierre."  
  
"Pierre... Ben's boyfriend."  
  
"Yes. We're just friends with benefits, but."  
  
Anthony never thought in his life that he'd end up this closely associated with what appeared to be an entire polyamorous pack, but then, he also never thought he'd be walking with a cane before the age of sixty-five. "All right." He gave an accepting nod, and tried not to think about Geir and Pierre having sex, which of course brought his mind back to thinking about Geir and Sören having sex. _The cat. Focus on the cat._  
  
"But the bit about Nicholas being like my dad... leads me to what I was going to say. The old adage 'don't judge a book by its cover'." Geir gave Anthony a stern, somewhat exasperated look which seemed to only make him more attractive, and his Norwegian accent got a little stronger, which Anthony found delightful. "I had a polyp on my throat a couple of years ago and it almost ended my career. I had a health scare last winter where I had recurring migraines and body aches, and that's gone now, but it was bad enough the Orchestra sent me in for tests like an MRI and it brought up all those old fears and concerns about my career being over. And even though I have a good career as a ballet dancer, my life hasn't all been swans and roses. I left Oslo not just because the Orchestra headhunted me, but to _get away from my abusive mother._ I don't know who my father is. So yes, I do know a thing or two about being a mess. All of us around here do. If you think you're a mess, you weren't here when Craig overdosed."  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped. He knew from what Sören told him that Craig was a recovering addict, but it was one thing to hear Sören talk about it and another thing to have all of that confirmed by Geir - not that Anthony thought Sören was lying, but somehow it made it feel more real.  
  
"Wow," Anthony said. That was all he could say in that moment, and he felt even more like an idiot. _Wow? That's it? Wow?_  
  
Geir went on. "I agree with your therapist, though, I don't think it's a sign of weakness for you to be in therapy at all." Geir propped up his feet on an ottoman, and Tobias took that as a cue to climb from the couch to the armchair, onto Geir. "Therapy is just like... physical therapy, but for your mind. I rehabilitated my flute playing, and you're probably walking better since your accident. In a few months from now, if you keep working on it, you'll be feeling better. You'll be stronger."  
  
"I suppose you're right. It just feels very..." Anthony made a vague hand gesture. "Raw and vulnerable, and this is only the first session."  
  
"Yes, but that's what you need, isn't it?" Geir raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me you haven't really talked much to people after the accident."  
  
"No. I mean, there's Sören, and I spent a little time with Karen, but... I do keep to myself a lot." Anthony scowled into his coffee. "I used to have friends, and they abandoned me when I wasn't fun anymore, because, you know, associating with a cripple isn't fashionable."  
  
"They sound like dicks. You're better off."  
  
"Probably," Anthony conceded. "But I'm also very alone now."  
  
"You don't have to be," Geir said. "I'm sure Karen wouldn't turn down another invite to go get coffee or something."  
  
Anthony sighed. He looked down at his brogues, and then back at Geir, feeling that urge to hide under the couch again. "That's part of what's bothering me." He patted the Greenleaf bag down on the floor by the couch. "I know Karen invited me to her birthday party, but I can't help but feel she was doing that to be polite -"  
  
"Oh, please." Geir gave Anthony a look. "Anthony, I'm going to be blunt with you. Karen doesn't do things like invite people to _her birthday_ just to be _polite_. Maybe that's a thing in the world _you_ come from, but if Karen doesn't like someone she's not going to even try to be warm and friendly to them like she is with you, let alone inviting them to her birthday party. After all, you went to school with her and she didn't like you much then. Did she ever invite you to any birthday parties then?"  
  
"Well, no, but -"  
  
"There is no but," Geir said. "If Karen invited you to her birthday party, she wants you there."  
  
"What about the rest of you? I mean..." Anthony shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Tobias gave him a concerned look and a "prrp?" but stayed on Geir's lap. Anthony continued, "You all know my history with Sören, probably. You don't hate me?"  
  
"If any of the rest of us had a problem with you coming, we would have said something to her, because nobody wants Karen's birthday to be tense and awkward." Geir stroked Tobias's chin. "I won't lie to you, no, I don't like what you did. And I said some unflattering things when Sören told me about what happened." Geir smirked again. "I... made up a name for you."  
  
"A name."  
  
Geir nodded. "Arsehole Ho-bag-Jerkface."  
  
Anthony glared.  
  
"This was before you and Sören reconciled," Geir said.  
  
"I should bloody well hope so."  
  
"Look." Geir's expression got more serious, but also softened a bit. "Sören seems to have forgiven you, and that means I'm willing to give you a chance. I know people can change. I'm willing to get to know you as you are now, and not hold your past over your head... so long as you don't screw with us again. You get a second chance, and that's it."  
  
"I assure you I won't fuck up this time," Anthony said, and he meant it. He couldn't bear to hurt Sören again.  
  
"Good." Geir reached over and patted his arm, smiling prettily. "So relax. Your presence at Karen's party on Friday is welcome and requested."  
  
Anthony hoped so.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Friday came quickly - too quickly. Anthony had been mentally preparing for Karen's party all week and all his preparations turned to dust as he gave himself a once-over in the full-length mirror, leaning on his cane, before he headed out. Even after Geir's speech of reassurance on Monday afternoon, he still felt unsure about the whole thing.  
  
He arrived early at Balthazar, but Nicholas and Sören already were at the reserved table. Sören got up and gave him a big hug - Anthony fought the urge to kiss him, knowing they couldn't do that yet - and then Sören entertained him with memes on his phone before other guests started to arrive.  
  
Karen was next to arrive and Anthony rose from his seat, even as awkward as he felt getting up and sitting down with the use of his cane. They hugged warmly, and Karen sat next to him, rather than putting empty seats between them, which Anthony found encouraging. He didn't know when was the appropriate time to bestow presents on Karen, so he passed over the Greenleaf bag.  
  
"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything -"  
  
"Yes, I did." Anthony nodded. "I don't know if you want to open it now or later, but..."  
  
"I think I'll sneak a peek now, and then show everyone else later."  
  
"OK." Anthony watched with anticipation of Karen's reaction as she pulled the hardbound book of Jules LaForgue's poetry out of the bag, running her fingers over the leather cover. "I know you like Eliot. He took a lot of his inspiration from Jules LaForgue..."  
  
Karen threw her arms around him, making happy squealing sounds. Anthony wanted to cry with relief, but he just hugged her back, giving a little squeeze and some pats.  
  
"Jules LaForgue," Nicholas said. "That is an excellent choice, Anthony." Nicholas raised his glass, actually smiling with approval.  
  
"I've never read him," Sören said. "Karen, you'll have to let me borrow that Geordi LaForge book sometime."  
  
" _Jules LaForgue_ ," Nicholas and Anthony said in unison, and then Nicholas began chuckling; Anthony was also amused they'd corrected him together.  
  
Sören grinned into his ginger ale, and Anthony realized he'd said that on purpose to get a rise out of both of them. Karen playfully swatted him with the book.


	12. Finding The Way

"Hey, sleepyhead."  
  
Sören crinkled his nose with a smile before he opened his eyes to look into Geir's, that breathtaking bright blue. Geir leaned in and kissed Sören's forehead, then lowered his face so they could rub noses, before their mouths met, tongues playing together in a deep, sensual kiss. Sören reached out and wrapped his arms around Geir, squeezing him, and giggled happily as Geir began to flutter kisses over his face.  
  
Sören glanced over and looked at the time - it was three in the afternoon on Thursday, September third. Nicholas wasn't home from UCL yet, and wouldn't be for at least two or three more hours. Sören had worked the overnight shift and come back a little after eleven in the morning, and had promptly showered and gone to bed. Geir had let himself in with his key, and Sören was delighted that Geir wanted to steal a little time before Nicholas got in.  
  
Sören had been sleeping in just his boxer-briefs, since the early September day was still warm and Sören threw off a lot of body heat. Geir had come straight from the gym, still in his workout clothes, and now Sören watched as Geir stood up and began to undress. "I would have done this when I arrived," Geir said, "but I thought you might enjoy the show." Geir grinned.  
  
Sören grinned back. "Very much." He laughed as Geir tossed his shirt at him, and took a moment to breathe in Geir's scent before looking back at Geir's naked torso, admiring the definition in his arms and pecs and abs. Sören bit his lower lip with a little growl. "Fuck."  
  
Sören's cock was already starting to harden at the sight of Geir's body, and when Geir was completely naked - and fully erect - Sören's own cock leapt, aching for attention. Geir climbed back down on the bed, pulled down the sheet covering Sören, and started palming the hard bulge in Sören's boxer-briefs as they kissed. Sören ran his hands over Geir's body, enjoying the silken steel of him, enjoying even more the way Geir trembled at his touch, moaning. Geir pulled down Sören's boxer-briefs, smiling as Sören's cock sprung free, and they both groaned into the kiss as their hard cocks rubbed together, the captive bead ring in the head of Sören's cock rubbing against the head and frenulum of Geir's cock, teasing him.  
  
"I've been thinking about you all day," Geir rasped between kisses at Sören's neck.  
  
"Have you now."  
  
"Mhm." Geir kissed and licked the hollow of Sören's shoulder, and licked down to the nipple. Sören moaned, cock throbbing, as Geir's tongue swirled around and around the nipple, and moaned louder as Geir's tongue lashed the nub before drawing it into his mouth, sucking hard. "I had a dream about you."  
  
"Anything good?"  
  
Geir chuckled. "Yeah, it was a nice dream."  
  
Sören thought about asking Geir what specifically the dream was about, and held back. A frisson went down Sören's spine, remembering the dreams he and Anthony used to share about being in other bodies, other lives - being brothers, lovers. He looked into those bright blue eyes, so much like the other brother-lover he'd dreamt of - the one he was sure was Nicholas, while he was still skeptical as to whether or not any of it was true, and Nicholas had never mentioned strange dreams to him besides that - and Sören had the strange, wild thought that maybe Geir was around "back then", too. But that seemed absolutely mad. Sören pushed the thought away, not wanting to speculate, not wanting his discomfort with the idea that at least some of the people he knew now, he had known before, and all that implied, to get in the way of his arousal. Sören's schedule was crazy enough that he had to take what time he could get with his other partners, and Geir had made time for him. Sören grabbed Geir by the hair and pulled him up to kiss him hard, moaning as Geir's thumb rubbed the nipple he'd just been licking and sucking. Sören cried out as Geir pulled the nipple ring, cock jolting against Geir's cock.  
  
Geir started kissing Sören's neck again, then kissed Sören's other shoulder, and down to Sören's other nipple. Geir's hand strayed from Sören's nipple down to rub Sören's stomach in lazy circles, and then Sören's cock was in Geir's hand, Geir stroking it slowly. Geir kissed the center of Sören's chest, over his heart, and then back to the first nipple he was teasing, licking fast, then slow, suckling hard, swirling the tongue around it before lashing it and suckling again. He kissed back over to the other nipple, eyes locked with Sören's, watching as he suckled and Sören's nails dug into him, Sören arched to him, panting.  
  
Geir's hard cock rubbed against Sören's thigh. Geir was kissing Sören's neck again, knowing how crazy that made him, Sören writhing, bucking up against him. "Sooo..." Geir smiled, thumb rubbing the frenulum of Sören's cock. "Any thoughts about what you'd like?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
They laughed together and Geir gave him a kiss. They nuzzled again and then Sören nibbled on Geir's lower lip, thinking - everything sounded good, but Sören was still tired from a long shift and only getting a few hours of sleep, so getting fucked sounded a bit strenuous. "I'm thinking of a number between one and seventy," Sören said.  
  
"Forty-two?"  
  
Sören's laughter rang out - that answer delighted him, even though it was the wrong answer. "So, what, is the Ultimate Question 'when do we fuck'?"  
  
"Clearly."  
  
They laughed together and when they calmed down, Geir kissed the tip of Sören's nose, making Sören smile. "So you wanted to sixty-nine?" Geir asked, stroking Sören's cheek.  
  
"If that's all right with you."  
  
"That's more than all right with me." Geir gave Sören a deep, passionate kiss, the swirling of his tongue a promise of just what that tongue could, and would be doing soon.  
  
They got into position, laying at each other's sides. Geir's cock was already dripping with precum, and Sören dove right in to lap it up with long, teasing strokes of his tongue, making Geir groan as he took Sören's cock into his mouth.  
  
Sören teased Geir some more by sucking just the head of his cock, working his tongue to kiss it, as Geir's tongue rubbed up and down Sören's shaft. While Sören had showered just a few hours ago and could still smell the soap, Geir coming straight from the gym meant he was a bit sweaty, and Sören could taste the sweat and musk as he drew more of Geir's cock into his mouth. But he liked it - Geir tasted very _male_ , very primal - and it made Sören harden even more, Geir groaning appreciatively as he sucked hard and fast.  
  
Sören sucked more slowly, continuing to tease him, but Geir's hungry enthusiasm quickly got Sören to that edge and Sören found himself giving in, sucking harder, faster, reaching to cup Geir's balls and rub them as he sucked. Geir moaned around the cock in his mouth and Sören also moaned, the pleasure intensifying. Sören could feel Geir's balls tightening underneath his palm and he knew Geir was getting close, too. Sören couldn't resist the urge to tease him again, taking Geir's cock out of his mouth and licking the head in circles, lashing the slit, then running his tongue up and down the shaft. Sören began to lick Geir's balls and suck on them, and Geir got louder; Geir's hand was playing with Sören's balls now too and a finger strayed to that sensitive place between balls and ass. When Geir pushed a finger inside him Sören almost came right then. He started thrusting into Geir's mouth, not able to help it, and Geir sucked him even more hungrily, moaning his own pleasure.  
  
Sören knew he was going to come soon, even though he didn't want to stop. He drew Geir's cock back into his mouth, and, keeping a hand on Geir's balls, he reached around and began to caress Geir's back, fingers playing down Geir's spine. Geir trembled and made a deep, animal growl with his mouth full. Sören smiled around the cock in his mouth, sucking hard and fast, devouring greedily, continuing to stroke Geir's spine and play with his balls. A moment later Sören was right there at that point of no return, and heard himself make a high-pitched noise. Geir growled again in response, and Sören let go, spending into Geir's mouth. Hearing Geir moan "mmmmmmm", enjoying the taste of him, made Sören's orgasm even more intense, and yet another bolt of pleasure went through him as Geir spilled into his mouth too. Sören swallowed down as much as he could, enjoying the debauched feeling of Geir's seed spilling out of the corners of his mouth, and then he lapped at the seed still flowing from the head, licking Geir clean. Geir also gave Sören's cock a few licks.  
  
They sat up and kissed, savoring the taste of their essence combined. Then Sören pulled Geir down onto the pillows with him and they held each other, legs entwined. Sören rested his head on Geir's shoulder and Geir began to pet Sören's curls. Geir rubbed his nose in Sören's hair and planted a kiss on the top of Sören's head, and Sören gave a happy little sigh, flexing his fingers and toes.  
  
Tobias joined them on the bed, purring. They pet the cat together, and Tobias snuggled up next to them, kneading. Sören smiled up at Geir, who smiled back at him. As stressful as the day had been, now Sören had that wonderful post-orgasmic "all is right with the world" feeling.  
  
"Thank you," Sören said softly.  
  
"Thank _you_ ," Geir said. He kissed the tip of Sören's nose again. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I love you too." Sören stroked his cheek. Geir took Sören's hand and kissed it, and put it on his heart.  
  
They lay there for a few minutes in silence, Sören listening to the beat of Geir's heart and his breath, and the rumbling purr of Tobias, feeling cozy and safe. Finally Sören broke the silence. "So how was practice, anyway? I hope having the hornies didn't get in the way too much."  
  
Geir chuckled. "Practice was fine. Mostly."  
  
"Mostly?"  
  
Geir sighed. "I get afraid that the migraines and body aches are going to come back."  
  
"The migraines were probably stress-related. _As you know_ , your MRI and CAT scans were fine..." Sören gave him reassuring pats.  
  
"Yeah, I know. I also worry about another polyp. I know that sounds daft, considering it was rare to begin with..." Geir swallowed hard, his brow furrowed. "There's an ever-present sense of danger now, knowing how fragile the human body is, how quickly everything can be taken away, just like that..." Geir snapped his fingers.  
  
Sören felt for him. He also related to what Geir was saying a little too well, remembering how in the first few weeks and months after being drugged and raped in Reykjavik, he had panic attacks every time he left home. He also still continued to have nightmares about the abuse he experienced as a child and a teenager, from his aunt and uncle, decades later, an ocean away from them. While he hadn't been in Geir's life when Geir had needed the polyp removed, he'd heard enough about it to know how traumatic that experience actually was, Geir worrying that his career was over, and even though Geir was a rising star in the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, it was understandable that Geir would worry something like that would happen again.  
  
Sören's thoughts then turned to Anthony - not that his thoughts were ever far from the man he almost married - and what Anthony must be enduring now, since the accident. Too spooked to even get behind the wheel of a car, when Anthony used to love driving, he loved that Audi.  
  
Though Sören was a neurosurgeon, not a psychologist, he was still intimately familiar with the way trauma tricked the brain into never feeling completely safe again. Even as Sören rested in Geir's arms, with a purring cat next to him, and Nicholas would be home from campus later, Sören knew what a dangerous world it was out there, and that all his happiness could be taken away from him in the blink of an eye, especially by someone else - like the bomb threat at Lincoln's Inn years ago, or the footballer under the influence who'd crashed into Anthony, or whoever had raped him in Reykjavik.  
  
Sören's arms tightened around Geir and he kissed Geir's cheek. "I won't give you false promises and tell you nothing will happen," Sören said. "I'm a doctor, I don't believe in lying to people and giving them false hope. But I can tell you that your fears are understandable and it is probably very rare that you'd get a polyp a second time. You know..." Sören stroked his chin, thinking of Anthony again. Anthony, who needed friends. "You and Anthony could probably have quite a discussion about injuries, illness... and the way it changes your entire perspective, gives you a sense of fear. It might be therapeutic to know you're not alone, it's not just you struggling, to have some sort of... solidarity."  
  
"Actually..." Geir raised an eyebrow. "Anthony and I sort of talked about a week ago."  
  
"Sort of talked?" Sören cocked his head to one side, his curiosity piqued.  
  
Geir nodded. "I let him in when he was going to come over and wait for you, since Nicholas was out shopping. Anthony talked about how intense his first therapy session was, and he seemed to feel really... sheepish... about it, he assumed I have it all together, and I told him not to judge a book by its cover. I told him about the polyp on my throat."  
  
"Oh!" Sören hadn't known about that - Anthony hadn't told him, though they'd talked since Karen's party - Anthony was meeting him at the National on his break tomorrow, in fact. Sören found that conversation intriguing... and promising. "Well, at least he knows now someone sort of gets it. I mean, you recovered, and he'll always walk with a cane, but, still, you were laid up for awhile and you told me how powerless you felt."  
  
"I think the accident really did a number on him, and I don't mean his spine." Geir frowned. "He seemed really ambivalent about attending Karen's party, when we talked. I had to reassure him that Karen wanted him there, or she wouldn't have asked, and if any of the rest of us had a problem with his presence we would have told her as to not ruin her birthday with glaring across the table."  
  
"Oh, poor Anthony." Sören sighed, heart aching for him. Sören remembered what it was like to feel like he was being merely politely tolerated among Anthony's friends - he still believed that was the case, and that Trisha had been actively malicious - and it was a horrible feeling. Sören still didn't want Anthony to feel that way among Sören's chosen family, but Sören also knew that Anthony's pride had taken quite a blow.  
  
"Yeah." Geir's frown deepened. "You know, I didn't think even a couple months ago I'd be saying this, but... he seems like an OK guy. I mean, you wouldn't love him the way you do if he wasn't."  
  
Sören nodded. "He fucked up, _but_ I want to forgive him. It's not like it was a pattern of behavior. It would have been easier if it had been and I could just dismiss him, instead of..." _Feeling like a piece of my soul was ripped out when he was gone._ Sören couldn't say the words aloud, feeling tears blur his eyes. Sören blinked them back and steeled himself, not wanting to cry right now, not wanting to ruin the mood, that peaceful, easy feeling he'd had after an intense shift.  
  
"He needs friends," Geir said. "And... I think I might like to be his friend."  
  
"I agree," Sören said, and now he smiled, his spirits lifting. If he wasn't so exhausted he would have started happy-dancing around the room with Tobias. "I don't want to force him on any of you..." Sören remembered all too well the way he hadn't meshed with Anthony's friends, despite Anthony trying. "But I'm not gonna lie, if he could make friends with some of you, that would be great." Sören kissed Geir's cheek. "And thank you for. You know. Talking to him, trying to put his mind at ease. I have to wonder if he would have even come to Karen's party if he hadn't talked to you, if he would have found an excuse."  
  
"I'm glad he did talk to me," Geir said. Then he grinned, and the mischief in his eyes made Sören's eyebrows shoot up.  
  
"What," Sören said.  
  
"Oh... nothing."  
  
Sören elbowed him, knowing it wasn't nothing. "What."  
  
Geir started snickering. "I'm glad he wasn't scared off when he found out I'd seen _those_ pictures."  
  
Sören facepalmed, doubling over with silent, full-body laughter, sides hurting. "Oh _Christ_ how did that even come up?"  
  
"I brought up that you wanted to paint me, and Anthony said you have a way with the paintbrush, and... I guess my facial expression gave it away. I mean, he _is_ a barrister, and you know Karen doesn't miss anything, apparently he doesn't either."  
  
"God." Sören howled, snorting. His face was on fire. "Well, they are very nice paintings, I'm very proud of them."  
  
"You should be. They really captured the magic between you." Geir gave Sören a little kiss. "I wouldn't mind being in a painting with you like that, myself."  
  
Sören's face burned hotter. He liked that idea, too. "I might need some inspiration for poses." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
"I think that could be arranged." Geir kissed Sören again, deeper, and his hand went down to grasp both of their cocks, stroking them back to life.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Geir ended up staying for dinner, and after Geir went home, Sören and Nicholas went for their usual evening walk, and then did tai chi together. After tai chi they cuddled on the couch together, Sören wanting to watch reruns of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_. Halfway into the show Sören ended up sitting on Nicholas's lap, snuggling into Nicholas's chest, rubbing his nose in the silver chest hair peeking out through the V neck of Nicholas's pajama top.  
  
Sören felt so cozy that he could have almost gone to sleep, and then his phone went off on the coffee table. Sören made a face, groaning, hoping it wasn't work calling him in - he had an early shift starting at five tomorrow and he was already not looking forward to that.  
  
But it was Anthony. Sören accepted the call. "Hey," he said.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said. "I'm sorry to bother you - just calling to confirm having lunch with you on your break tomorrow."  
  
"We're still on," Sören said, amused by how professional Anthony was over a casual get-together.  
  
"OK. Sorry -"  
  
"Stop apologizing, you're fine." Sören didn't want to sound harsh with him, but this wasn't like the Anthony he'd been with, to act like a simple phone call was some sort of burden. He had no doubt that the rejection from Anthony's "friends" had contributed to that, and Sören felt that ache for him again, wishing he could give Anthony a hug through the phone.  
  
"OK."  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" Then Sören said - both because it was true and because it was the sort of reassurance he knew Anthony needed right now - "Miss you."  
  
Anthony sighed. "Miss you too." There was a pause, then Anthony said, "Sleep well, when you get there."  
  
"You too." Sören bit back the _I love you,_ even though that was true, too.  
  
When Sören ended the call, he stared at his phone for a moment. Nicholas began rubbing his back. "That was Anthony?" Nicholas asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "That was Anthony."  
  
"Is everything all right?" Nicholas cupped Sören's chin and tilted Sören's face to meet his eyes, Nicholas's dark chocolate eyes filled with tender concern.  
  
"Yeah, it is. Just..." Sören's voice trailed off.  
  
Nicholas's eyebrows went up.  
  
Sören felt a little weird discussing Anthony's business with him, and playing armchair psychologist to boot, but since it affected him, and in turn Nicholas was affected by that, Sören decided to just come out and say it. "It kills me to hear him apologizing for stuff like a simple phone call to confirm tomorrow. Like, he never used to be like that." Sören sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes he scowled. "Anthony used to have so much confidence, and it's like the accident _broke_ him."  
  
"It was a good call for you to advise him to seek professional help, then," Nicholas said, nodding.  
  
"Well, yeah. But also..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "His friends, the ones who were shitty to him... well, I told you that they rejected him after the accident. Like his handicap made him uncool now."  
  
Nicholas tutted. "Very fine people, those are," he said sarcastically.  
  
Sören nodded. He didn't hit women, but he would have liked to pour a bucket of ice over Trisha just for hurting Anthony, never mind what Trisha did to him. Sören instinctively rubbed his curls as if to remind himself his hair was still there - longer now than before the haircut that Trisha had set him up for. "Geir told me earlier that last week, when he was over while you were out shopping, Anthony asked if Karen even wanted him at the party or was just being polite, and if anyone else had a problem with him being there. And I told Geir that it was a good thing they had that talk and Geir assured him it was fine, because Anthony probably wouldn't have gone otherwise. But... it just bothers me that he even _asked_ that, that he's feeling _this_ low that he's worried about things like that. Yes, he's in therapy, and that'll help, but... he needs friends, too." Tobias came over then, as if talking about Anthony needing friends was his cue to come round and volunteer. Sören chuckled as Tobias climbed onto both of them, purring loudly. "Geir said he might like to be Anthony's friend."  
  
"Good."  
  
There was a long pause, and as Sören watched Nicholas stroking Tobias, he knew Nicholas was in deep thought, especially when Nicholas's free hand began stroking his beard. Sören could practically see the gears turning in Nicholas's head.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well..." Their eyes met again. "As I told you last month, with Anthony being in your life again, it would be better for all involved if we were cordial. I think I should be a bit more proactive about that. When you see him tomorrow, please let him know that he's invited again for Sunday dinner. Every Sunday, even if you're working that evening."  
  
Sören's jaw dropped. Then he found himself making a little excited squeak, not able to help it, which scared Tobias, hopping down. Sören felt bad for the cat, but also couldn't help laughing - and Nicholas chuckled too. Then Sören threw his arms around Nicholas and kissed him hard. When the kiss broke, and they rubbed noses, Sören asked, "You mean it?"  
  
Nicholas gave him a look. "Do you think I would be opening _my home_ every week if I minded?" Nicholas gave a small smile then. "Truth be told, if he hadn't... done what he'd done... I would probably be very open to becoming friends with him. He has good taste in literature. So, if we are letting the past rest... I can try. I admit that I'm not the best at making friends with others -"  
  
"You still did it. There was Karen, and Geir, and then we were friends first." Sören kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose. "Oh, Nick..." They rubbed noses again. "Thank you. Thank you so much."  
  
Nicholas chuckled and patted him, and then Nicholas gave him a squeeze and kissed Sören's cheek. "Now then, would you like a back rub and a foot rub before bed? You must be sore from that long shift."  
  
Sören nodded. "Even if I'd had the day off, I wouldn't refuse." Sören nuzzled Nicholas's beard. "You have that magic touch." They rubbed noses again. "You spoil me, Daddy."  
  
"You deserve to be spoilt, sweetheart." Nicholas smiled, his dark eyes shining with love. "Come, let's go upstairs."  
  
Sören climbed off Nicholas's lap, took his hand, and followed him upstairs. Soon, his troubles were far away.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony's eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised, an incredulous look on his face. "He... he's inviting me for dinner _every_ Sunday, whether you're there or not."  
  
"That's what I said."  
  
Anthony blinked and sipped his coffee. "Wow. That's... unexpected."  
  
Sören nodded. "I was surprised too, but... it's not just Geir who wants to give friendship a chance, it's Nick, too."  
  
Anthony blinked again and this time he looked even more taken aback. "Wait... you and Geir talked about..."  
  
"Well, _yeah_ , he's one of my partners, Anthony, it took over a week mainly because of scheduling conflicts, but of course he was going to be honest with me that he had a talk with you." Sören folded his arms. "I'm glad you went to Karen's party, but it makes me sad that you worried the invite wasn't genuine."  
  
"I'm not trying to cast aspersions on Karen, it's not that I think she's, well... fake..."  
  
 _Like Trisha._ Anthony didn't have to say it, but Sören knew that was what he meant. Sören sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. "No, I realize that. But of course, it's because you had fake 'friends' that you worry about that sort of thing."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony looked down.  
  
Sören kicked him under the table. "Look. I'm not going to force you to associate with the people I care about if it makes you uncomfortable. But I did mean it when I said that one of the conditions of us getting back together is you making at least one or two friends, because I can't be everything to you, and I shouldn't be. I don't want you to be lonely, and I want you to see that you _deserve_ friends. Trisha and the others were fucking idiots."  
  
Anthony looked like he was ready to cry, and Sören ached for him - and Sören knew it would be an even bigger blow to Anthony's pride if he broke down out here in a public place, in the cafe at the National, with other people watching. Sören desperately grasped at levity, and an old song from his and Anthony's teenage years crashed into his head. Sören started singing, " _If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends, make it last forever, friendship never ends..._ "  
  
Anthony gave Sören a pained look, and then his lips quirked with amusement, as he shook with silent laughter, shaking his head. " _God_ , Sören. Could you not with the Spice Girls."  
  
"It hurts to see you like this, Anthony. I want you to be happy. I really, really want you to be happy." Sören had to go there. " _I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want..._ "  
  
Anthony glared. "No more Spice Girls."  
  
"Awwww, party pooper."  
  
"You know... now that you have given me that earworm, I will have to counter."  
  
"Oh, will you now?"  
  
Anthony's lips quirked again. He sipped his coffee, an evil look on his face, and then he began to sing, " _Dale a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena / Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegria y cosa buena..._ "  
  
Even though it was the Macarena and Sören hated that song, it was still weirdly sexy to him to hear Anthony singing in Spanish. "So, ah... you speak Spanish, right?" Sören knew Anthony had majored in linguistics at Cambridge, before he did his diploma conversion, and he could speak a few different languages fluently, including French and Swedish.  
  
" _Sí, hablo español con fluidez. Es un idioma hermoso, ¿no?_ " Anthony smiled. " _Un hermoso lenguaje para decirte lo hermoso que eres. No solo para mirar, sino que tienes un corazón hermoso._ "  
  
Sören was getting turned on. His mind went right into the gutter, fantasizing about Anthony speaking different languages to him as they were making love - Spanish, French, Italian. Then he thought about one of the first times Anthony had ever visited him at the National, when their relationship was new, and Anthony had dragged him into a supply closet and given him an amazing blowjob. Even though Sören was the one to make the "no sex for a year" rule, feeling Anthony needed time to prove he could be trusted again before they went there, Sören still wanted him very much. This was going to be a long year for both of them.  
  
Longer still when Sören had to get back to work and he and Anthony hugged, and the feel of Anthony's body against his made Sören's cock stir in his scrubs. On the way back, before he scrubbed in, he stopped in the bathroom and quickly brought himself off, thinking about Anthony, his mind's eye replaying delicious memories of them making love together.  
  
As Sören leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall, recovering from his orgasm, he wished he could cuddle with Anthony. He knew it wasn't just sex - though his lust was very strong - but his lust was that strong because he loved so much. And he truly hoped that the man he loved could heal.  
  
This Sunday, he hoped, was a step in that direction.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sunday evening came, and Sören was the one who let Anthony into the flat. Ben, Pierre, Karen, Geir and Craig were all there, and Anthony looked around cautiously as he stepped in. Geir gave him a warm smile and a wave, and then Karen got up from the couch, came over, and gave Anthony a hug. Anthony looked surprised, but then he put his arms around her and gently patted.  
  
"You're just in time for a fresh pot of coffee, Anthony," Nicholas said, smiling encouragingly. "Please, sit down."  
  
Anthony sat on one side of Sören, Nicholas on the other. It was starting to rain outside, and Sören looked out the window with a happy little sigh. "I love rain," Sören said.  
  
"You're in the right place for it," Craig said.  
  
"Mhm. It's not just that I like rain itself, but..." Sören sipped his coffee. "I like spring and fall. Where I'm from, we shoot right from summer to winter without much fall in-between. It's been nice to be out here the last few years and watch the seasons change. Fall is so cozy."  
  
"As you know, it's only September sixth," Nicholas said. "Not quite fall yet."  
  
"It's meteorological fall," Sören said, giving him a look; Nicholas's eyes twinkling told Sören he was just ribbing him back.  
  
Then Karen and Anthony both sighed together, and looked at each other across the room, and Karen started cracking up laughing. Anthony's cheeks turned pink.  
  
"The way you say 'meteorological'," Anthony explained. "It's..."  
  
"We love your accent," Karen said, with Anthony nodding.  
  
"Indeed." Nicholas kissed Sören's cheek.  
  
While Sören didn't mind the flattery, he still found it odd when people complimented his accent - his patients frequently did. "I guess," Sören said.  
  
"You can say anything and it sounds... sexy," Anthony said, blush deepening.  
  
Sören grinned, not able to help himself. "Pickle. Toejam. Syphillis -"  
  
"Sören _Sigurðsson._ " Nicholas's face was stern, but his eyes were crinkled at the corners and then his lips quirked as he quickly drank his coffee, trying to fight off the laughter.  
  
"Right," Sören said. "We're going to eat soon, that was in poor taste. I'll have to troll some other way." Sören looked right at Anthony and recited, " _I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want..._ "  
  
Anthony made noises. Karen leaned in and patted him. Tobias made a concerned chirp and trotted over to Anthony and proceeded to climb on him to comfort him.  
  
"Anyway," Sören said, "it's fall. You know what that means? Pumpkin spice season."  
  
"Oh lord," Ben said. "You can't get away from pumpkin spice."  
  
"Listen," Sören said. "It's still new to _me_ , OK? The novelty hasn't worn off yet." Sören sipped his coffee. "I want to go out to Starbucks and get a pumpkin spice latte."  
  
"I like that idea," Karen said. "When do you have some free time?"  
  
Sören pulled out his phone and checked his schedule. "Tuesday. Late afternoon or evening, either is fine."  
  
Karen turned to Anthony then. "Do you want to come along?"  
  
Anthony's eyebrows shot up, and Karen gave him a stern look before he could start questioning if she meant it. "OK," Anthony said.  
  
"I wouldn't mind going out for coffee," Pierre said.  
  
"Coffee would be a treat. I have to watch what I'm eating, so special coffee is like having dessert without having dessert," Geir said.  
  
"All right, you talked me into it," Ben said.  
  
Craig didn't invite himself, though Sören was kind of hoping he would, but he knew things were still tense and awkward between Craig and Ben and it couldn't be forced. Meanwhile, Anthony looked a bit dazed, like he wasn't expecting the others to volunteer to come along for coffee after he'd been invited... but Sören thought that was exactly what Anthony needed, was to know he was welcome, not merely tolerated.  
  
Sören began plugging the event into his phone calendar, so he wouldn't forget - remembering it was especially important, for Anthony's sake. "Great," Sören said. He flashed Anthony a grin.


	13. Divergent

It was Monday, September fourteenth, and Anthony's fourth session with Helen Barrett. The last two sessions, Anthony had talked about his relationship with Sören, and his relationship history in general - including when he realized he was gay and what it was like to be a gay teenager in the 1990s, a time when the country was far less progressive on LGBT issues. While Helen was reserved about her own history, as was natural in a professional relationship, Anthony nonetheless had seen sympathy in her eyes, and knew that because of their similar age it was probably a very similar time for her as well, being a lesbian herself, and she had faced additional prejudice for being Black.  
  
Today Helen started a different topic. "So, you haven't worked since the accident?"  
  
"No," Anthony said, feeling that hot sting of shame again. "I was told that I can return to my post at Garden Court Chambers anytime I'm ready, but... I'm not there yet. I have a bit of a reputation, I strike fear in the heart of my opponents. I don't know that I'm exactly intimidating like this." Anthony gestured to his cane.  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that," Helen said. "If you've built that reputation for awhile, it's likely still there. Your ability to build a convincing argument isn't reliant on your ability to walk, after all."  
  
Helen had a point, but Anthony knew his anxiety about going back into the courtroom was heightened by his former friends, who were barristers just like he was. He had swallowed down a lot of distasteful attitudes they'd expressed over the years - Lawrence was the least bad of them, as Lawrence didn't come from the same sort of privilege - but since they'd rejected him he'd been analyzing everything in hindsight and was ashamed that he'd associated with people like that. The problem was the legal profession was full of people like Trisha and Vincente and Jack and Steve. People who would see him as a laughingstock as he was now, hobbling on his cane - people who would see the anxiety he had in public and weaponize it. Anthony hoped Helen was right and that Crown Prosecution would still have concerns about facing the Shark, but his experience with the darker side of human nature had taught him to not raise that hope too high, that the courtroom predator would now be seen as prey.  
  
"And," Helen went on, "while I won't push you to go back to work until you're ready, I do get the sense that it's worse for your mental health to _not_ be working."  
  
Anthony nodded. "It is," he admitted.  
  
"How does it make you feel?"  
  
Anthony winced. "Obviously, pretty bad. But if you need me to elaborate..."  
  
"In your own words," Helen said with a nod.  
  
Anthony took a moment to compose his thoughts. "It isn't just that I've felt really powerless and _trapped_ since the accident, but... I feel like I've lost my sense of purpose. I used to feel like I was fighting the good fight. Even when I had a client who was guilty, who was a bad person... well, I would defend ninety-nine guilty to clear the name of one innocent. And many of the guilty _weren't_ bad people, just people who had made bad choices, often because they had a bad hand in life. Lack of privilege, lack of opportunity. In those cases, I would try to argue for less harsh sentences, and try to provide my clients with resources, a push towards a better path. I felt like I was making a difference, at least a little, and life feels so _meaningless_ now."  
  
Helen just listened without reacting, but she nodded and waited for him to continue.  
  
Anthony collected his thoughts again, and then he found himself owning a deeper, less noble truth. "And it wasn't just that I felt like I was fighting the good fight, but it was... the thrill of the battle itself. There's someone I know who used to be a barrister, and she ended up leaving the profession." He was referring to Karen now. "I could see well before she left that it was taking its toll on her. And it's gotten rough for me, too. But... I used to thrive on that adrenaline, before the accident. Things would get rough, but it was a sort of... exciting challenge." Anthony gave a nervous little laugh. "That sounds a bit messed up, doesn't it, I'm not trying to say that people's very real problems and their lives on the line was some sort of sport..."  
  
"But clearly, you wouldn't have gone on this long if you hated it. You would have changed careers."  
  
"Exactly." Anthony nodded. "And I think it was something Sören fundamentally understood, one of the things we strongly had in common even as our backgrounds are so different. He has the adrenaline rush of the operating theatre, especially when he handles trauma cases at odd hours. For me it was the courtroom. We were both riding off to war, in our own different ways. Two hunters, hunting together."  
  
There was another long silence, and Anthony could practically hear Helen thinking _Interesting_ , though she was still trying not to react. Anthony broke the silence with another nervous chuckle. "I almost married Sören, but I suppose you could say I was married to my job."  
  
Helen cocked her head to one side. "Why did you go into law, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
"I don't. I mean... it's relevant to my mental health." Anthony leaned back in his chair. He was starting to feel the urge to fidget again, and glanced over at the shelf of toys, but still resisted taking one. He hadn't yet, four weeks in. "Well, this is rather an unpleasant story, but I suppose you're used to hearing unpleasant stories?"  
  
Helen nodded. "There's very little you could say that would shock me, Anthony."  
  
"All right." Anthony exhaled sharply. "One of my father's brothers, Nigel, was in the service, as my grandfather had been. My uncle Nigel was in the first Gulf War, and he came back wrong. Traumatized from what he'd seen in battle, and he also had Gulf War Syndrome. I was very close to him, he was my favorite uncle, he was in some ways more of a father to me than my own father was, though my relationship with my father isn't bad. But Nigel was... more understanding. Both due to the way that his trauma had given him a sense of perspective, that other people are going through hardships in life, and also, he was gay himself, in a time when it wasn't safe to be out." Anthony closed his eyes, remembering. "When I was fourteen, there was an incident. He was leaving a supermarket and he forgot one of his bags, and a cashier ran after him with the bag of groceries and he got startled and ended up attacking the cashier, because the startle response sent him into a flashback."  
  
"Did he go to jail?"  
  
"No, because he had a good barrister who had compassion and knew he was a good person, just troubled. They managed to work something out with the victim and the court, and the cashier even forgave him. But..." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling that sharp stab of grief that he always felt when he thought about his uncle for too long. "He still lived with PTSD and eventually it got the better of him. He took his own life when I was eighteen."  
  
"I'm sorry, Anthony."  
  
"So am I." Anthony took the box of tissues from Helen's desk. He wiped at his eyes. "That experience with him having a barrister who was able to see the good in him and willing to fight for him... that left an impact on me. And I was at an impressionable age, an impressionable time in my life. It wasn't just that I was a teenager and starting to think about what I wanted to do with myself when I became an adult, but..." Anthony sighed. "Two years before the incident with my uncle, I was out of school for awhile."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Now Anthony got up and grabbed the squishy shark from the shelf and sat down with it, and began fiddling with it, watching it wobble in his hands. "I fell out of a tree. More specifically, I fell out of a tree because I was chased into a tree by a mob of boys and couldn't outrun them."  
  
"That's terrible."  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly, and began pulling on the rubber shark, making it stretch. "I broke my femur, needed a metal plate in my thigh - Anyway, I mention this because... I was bullied. This wasn't the first time I had been bullied by other boys, with words or violence. When they used violence, I tried fighting back, and I was always the one who got in trouble. It was seen as _my_ fault, even though it wasn't, they started it. I got in enough trouble that I stopped fighting back, because I didn't want to face serious consequences like expulsion, or ending up in a juvenile detention program. But when adults tell children 'just ignore the bully and they'll stop', they're lying. Ignoring doesn't make the bullies go away. They saw it as free reign to continue tormenting me, and it escalated to that point of being ganged up on. I think they might have beaten me to death, or seriously injured me even more than my femur getting broken, if I _hadn't_ climbed that tree."  
  
Though Anthony could tell Helen was trying not to react for professionalism's sake, she hissed, and scowled into her coffee before her expression resumed neutrality. It was a reaction Anthony understood - he'd had similar reactions to clients telling their horror stories, especially abuse victims who'd defended themselves and were in trouble for it.  
  
Anthony went on, squishing the rubber shark, squishing and stretching. He found himself rocking in his seat a little, something he only did when he was very agitated and tried not to do in front of other people. "Being blamed for what was happening to me, being punished for defending myself... it gave me a sympathy with those falsely accused of wrongdoing. What happened with my uncle, though he _was_ guilty of violence, just not in his right mind... that further cemented that drive to defend others for a living. And being bullied, being _othered_ for being obviously different, and later on, realizing I'm gay, and having to be careful about who knew, in less progressive times... well, that gave me a feeling of solidarity with people in marginalized groups, a willingness to use my privilege to help fight for those with less privilege."  
  
Helen nodded, and then she asked, "When you say that you were obviously different, what do you mean?"  
  
"Well..." Anthony gestured to himself, aware that he was rocking a little. "When I was out of school after falling out of the tree, I tried to get certain things under control that people had teased me about. I couldn't make them stop entirely, but I learnt to only do them if nobody was watching. Like this. Rocking. Fidgeting." He squished and stretched the shark again, feeling ridiculous, giving another nervous laugh. "I had a stutter, so I practiced my vocal skills. I wear contacts, though I do have glasses - the glasses were another thing I was teased about. Then later, in my early twenties when I entered the gay dating scene, I got teased about being hairy, so I started getting waxed. I haven't since the accident. My chest and back is scarred up enough that I don't see the point, someone who's going to have a problem with body hair will probably also have a problem with the scarring."  
  
"Back to when you were younger," Helen said; Anthony's face burned, realizing he'd probably given too much information with his grooming habits.  
  
"Er, sorry."  
  
"No need to apologize. There's a reason why I'm asking about your younger years, and it's not because body hair is a taboo subject."  
  
"...Oh." Anthony's brow furrowed. He didn't like the sound of that - a _reason_ , which suggested something non-trivial - and it seemed like it almost would be easier if Helen had an issue with him discussing personal grooming.  
  
"Were you a good student, would you say?"  
  
"Yes. That was also another thing I was teased for. I was the best in my class until I fell out of the tree. After that incident I learnt to dumb it down a little - not too much, just enough to stand out a bit less. Once I was at Cambridge, and then in my diploma conversion group, it didn't matter as much, I could be the star pupil again. But... if you've ever seen or read _Harry Potter_ , you know how Hermione Granger's hand shoots right up for every question? That was me until I toned it down."  
  
Helen nodded as if that didn't surprise her. She started taking some notes. Anthony didn't like that either. He began spinning the shark around by the tail.  
  
Anthony waited, and then Helen said, "So, what have you been doing with yourself since the accident?"  
  
Anthony laughed - again out of anxiety, not because Helen had said anything funny. He rubbed his chin and switched the shark to the other hand, spinning it harder. "Besides appointments? Not much. Reading. Gardening. I, ah. Signed up for Duolingo and go back and forth between a few different language courses, and I back up my Duolingo lessons with textbooks and other online resources for extra practice."  
  
"You like learning other languages?"  
  
"I majored in linguistics at Cambridge, and I took a year off to travel Europe... well, two years - my uncle Nigel told me to see Europe, not long before he died - and I picked up some more languages then."  
  
"How many languages do you speak now?"  
  
Anthony thought for a moment. "Fluently? I speak fluent French, Italian, Spanish, German, and Swedish. And I learned Esperanto as a geeky teenager." Anthony smiled, though his cheeks burned. "I'm on my way to fluency in Norwegian, Dutch, Turkish, Portuguese, Czech, and Welsh."  
  
Helen gave him an incredulous look, sipped her coffee, and took more notes. "That's twelve languages."  
  
"I want to learn more, eventually. I find languages fascinating."  
  
Helen finished her note-taking and put her bad down. "All right, Anthony, this is a sensitive subject and please understand I'm not trying to cause offense by asking this, but... were you ever in special education classes as a child?"  
  
" _What_?" Anthony's eyes widened. "No... why?" Little warning bells went off in his head, his arms breaking out into gooseflesh.  
  
"Were you ever diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, or autism?"  
  
Anthony stopped spinning the shark. He straightened his posture in his seat and looked Helen in the eye. "No. I... don't... understand -"  
  
"While I'm not qualified to make a diagnosis myself, there are a number of things you've told me in this session that are textbook examples of both attention deficit disorder and autistic spectrum disorders."  
  
"But... I'm not... bloody _Rain Man_ ," Anthony said.  
  
Helen put up a hand. "There are different degrees of autism. You may have heard of _Rain Man_ , but have you ever heard of Daniel Tammet? He's a polyglot like yourself, he's rather famous for how many languages he can speak, and he's highly intelligent... on the autistic spectrum. _Bill Gates_ believes he may be on the autistic spectrum himself."  
  
"I..." Anthony's head was spinning.  
  
"I can make a referral for you to get an evaluation," Helen said. "I would encourage you to go to the evaluation because the more we know about what's going on with you, the better we can help you. The sort of coping strategies I'd suggest for a neurodivergent person are going to be necessarily somewhat different from a neuroatypical person. And if it happens that you _can't_ resume work because of your anxiety, having a diagnosis of something like an autistic spectrum disorder will help your case with getting on a disability pension -"  
  
"I don't want to go on disability, thank you," Anthony said. He realized his tone was a bit harsh and he said, "Sorry." He didn't think there was any shame with people receiving benefits - and that was one way his political views differed sharply from his Tory father's, and some of his ex-friends - but even as he was too spooked to go back to work now, the thought of never returning to work again and living on a fixed income bothered him a lot, that wasn't the life he wanted for himself.  
  
"All right, but a formal diagnosis could still help you in other ways," Helen said. "The old adage, 'know thyself'. The old platitude, 'Knowing is half the battle.'"  
  
"You want me to get this evaluation done soon, I take it."  
  
Helen nodded. "They can set you up an appointment at the desk. I won't force you, but again, it will be easier to work with you on coping strategies and helping you get stronger, if we get a pulse on what's happening up here." Helen tapped her forehead.  
  
Anthony groaned. He'd always known he was different, but it was one thing to be different and another thing to be _different_. He looked down at the floor, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The next day, Anthony met Sören and his friends at Starbucks for the second Tuesday in a row. The first "coffee date" had gone so well that they had decided to start meeting on Tuesday afternoons or early evenings at Starbucks, though understandably Sören's presence there or lack thereof would be determined by his schedule, and since Karen had classes at night she couldn't make it to anything in the evening. It happened that this Tuesday they were all meeting at four, Sören included.  
  
Anthony's mother brought him - Anthony could have taken a cab or transit from Blackheath, but he was still nervous about it, even though having Elaine chauffeur him around made him feel self-conscious. Anthony usually liked to arrive to any appointments on the early side, with a bit of time to spare, but in the case of meeting everyone at Starbucks he preferred to go as close to the wire as he could get away with, since his idea of hanging around awkwardly in Starbucks by himself and worry that strangers were gawping at his cane, didn't sit well with him.  
  
When Elaine's Aston Martin pulled up in front of the Starbucks, Anthony could see through the window that the others were already there, at a table by the window. It was raining, and when Anthony stepped out of the car into the rain, Sören raised a hand in greeting, waving with a big grin. Anthony waved and hobbled into the cafe as quickly as he could, not wanting to get drenched - he didn't want to try to maneuver an umbrella with one hand and his cane with the other.  
  
Anthony pulled up a seat between Sören and Karen. "I took the liberty of ordering your usual," Sören said, pushing a cup over to him.  
  
Anthony's usual at Starbucks was a hazelnut latte. Though Anthony knew Sören's favorite at the National's cafe was the chocolate espresso with whipped cream, Anthony had learned that when it was pumpkin spice season, Sören was all about pumpkin spice lattes, and Sören was working on one now... getting whipped cream on his nose as always. Anthony grinned into his coffee. _Don't ever change,_ Anthony thought to himself.  
  
Ben and Geir continued the conversation they'd started before Anthony arrived, "talking shop" about theatre and the orchestra respectively. Anthony had never been interested in theatre - during his days in the gay dating scene he'd frequently quipped he was one of the only gay men he knew who wasn't into theatre, and he'd made a few jokes about having his "gay card" revoked for his disinterest in the subject. But Ben was going to be in a big production of _Guys And Dolls_ in December, as Sky Masterson, and even Sören was going to see it, so Anthony thought he might be willing to go himself.  
  
And then Anthony realized that even entertaining the thought of going not simply to see a theatre performance, but _out in public_... that was already progress. Anthony's hair stood on end. Maybe there was hope for him, at least a little.  
  
"Speaking of theatre," Sören said, "I was in the operating theatre for seven hours today."  
  
"And you _still_ came out?" Pierre's eyebrows shot up. "Aren't you exhausted?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but I'm having coffee. I wanted to see you guys," Sören said.  
  
"What even were you operating on for seven hours?" Ben asked. "That sounds serious."  
  
"I was doing a spinal fusion for a scoliosis patient," Sören said. "I can relate to your nerves about going on stage, Ben, because every time I'm about to perform surgery I have to run this sort of script through my head so I don't choke. It doesn't matter if I've performed the same procedure a couple hundred times already. It's still nerve-wracking."  
  
"Thanks," Ben said, patting him. "I don't like admitting I get a bad case of nerves before I go on stage, but..."  
  
Clearly that had been part of the conversation before Anthony arrived. "Oh, you... you're having anxiety?" Anthony asked. _Another person who can relate?_  
  
Ben nodded. "I love the theatre, it's my life, don't get me wrong, but... nerves, every time."  
  
"I get like that before I go to court," Anthony said, and then he realized he was speaking of being a barrister in the present tense, as if he hadn't been out of work since March. He gave a nervous chuckle. "I get like that anytime I leave the house now."  
  
"Why?" Ben asked.  
  
Anthony blinked. He looked at his cane, then at Ben.  
  
Ben shrugged. "I don't think it's a big deal you use a cane. I'm not trying to be insensitive, I'm just saying that I don't think any less of you. I think any decent person wouldn't."  
  
"It's... dapper," Sören said. "Is that the right word? All those old-timey pictures of gentlemen in suits, with walking sticks. You remind me of that." Sören rubbed his shoulder. Anthony turned to face him and Sören also tilted his head over, crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. Anthony felt that familiar thrust in his loins, tempted to grab Sören and kiss him right there. Anthony turned back to his drink, trying not to think about kissing Sören... or doing other things to him.  
  
It was a relief to Anthony to know that Sören wasn't any less attracted to him because of his handicap... though he wondered what Sören would think when he finally saw Anthony naked, with all of the scarring from going through a windshield; it was a miracle that his face had been unaffected, but then, it had gone right into the airbag.  
  
Then the worry intensified - the group seemed fairly accepting of him having a physical handicap, but the appointment for the evaluation with the psychologist to get tested for attention deficit disorder and autism was looming. Anthony frowned.  
  
Pierre picked up on it. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Anthony said.  
  
Karen gave him a look and elbowed him. "It's not nothing, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson."  
  
"All right." He didn't want to be put on the spot like this, but if they were going to reject him, better they do it now before _I start thinking of them as actual friends._ Anthony swallowed hard - he'd been trying to not get too attached to these people, but he felt at home with them right away. With the old crowd from school, he'd always felt a bit like an outsider, not completely accepted. He knew some of it was just by virtue of being among other queer men here - Karen being the exception - while the old crowd had all been straight, with him as the token gay. And in hindsight, Anthony wondered if his old crowd had tolerated him so they could feel like they were good people and not homophobes, while he had noticed they could talk more openly about their love lives than he could, and when he tried to bring Sören around, he knew now that they were actively hostile, it wasn't just Sören being paranoid. But he also knew that being a queer among queers wasn't the only reason why he felt more at home. He couldn't quite explain it, but he just _felt_ it. And he was afraid of getting hurt again, falling out of step in some way and being ghosted all over again. He would rather get that hurt done and over with if it was going to happen.  
  
All eyes were on him, and Anthony squirmed in his chair.  
  
"My therapist thinks I have ADD and/or autism," Anthony said. "I have a referral to go for an evaluation."  
  
"Oh," Pierre said.  
  
"I was told I had that when I was a kid," Sören said. "Er... ADHD. My aunt and uncle didn't want any kind of special services or treatment for me, they thought it was 'coddling' me."  
  
"Jesus _Christ_ ," Ben said. "The more I hear about your aunt and uncle, the more I want to go to Iceland and burn their house down."  
  
"You'd have to take a number," Anthony said. He was horrified. He was also surprised - though considering Helen had said he exhibited textbook traits of the two conditions, and he and Sören had some core similarities even as different as they were, he knew he shouldn't be surprised. He blinked at Sören. "You never told me."  
  
Sören shrugged. "There was never any reason for it to come up. Anyway... it's why I'm crap at remembering dates and phone numbers and things like that and I live by my phone schedule, but I can remember completely useless trivia, and why I can hyperfocus on a surgical procedure like it's the only thing that exists when I'm doing it, but also tend to have twenty tabs open when I'm online. And I self-medicate with caffeine." Sören made a swirling motion with his cup. "Speaking of which, I'm gonna go up to the counter and get another, you want another latte?"  
  
"Please, thank you." As much as Anthony hated Sören getting up and leaving him alone right then, he also had a feeling Sören was doing it deliberately - to give other people a chance to chime in with acceptance or lack thereof.  
  
"I'm pretty nervous about the evaluation," Anthony said. "I'm wondering if I should even go."  
  
"I don't think your therapist would have told you to get tested if it wasn't important," Karen said.  
  
"Exactly," Pierre said. "It probably would help you to know more about yourself."  
  
"Helen said that, yeah." Anthony nodded. "She said that the sort of coping strategies she'd give someone with... that... are different than what she'd give to someone else."  
  
"That makes sense to me," Geir said. "You have a different kind of brain."  
  
Karen nodded. "When I fell ill, I did some reading up on psychology and I came across an interesting article on ADHD that I never forgot. It said that humans evolved where most people are 'gatherers', but people with ADHD have a 'hunter' brain."  
  
That clicked in Anthony's head; he remembered what he'd told Helen yesterday with feeling like he was off on a hunt when he entered the courtroom, and the way it seemed Sören also thrived on the adrenaline of surgery.  
  
Sören came back with the two coffees and took his spot.  
  
"The hunter-gatherer thing makes a lot of sense," Ben said.  
  
"Yeah, it explains why I didn't really do so well as a lawyer," Karen said. Before Anthony could protest, Karen said, "I'm not talking about competency, I'm talking about... the lifestyle, itself. Why I burned out the way I did. Apparently I'm more of a gatherer, the profession is better suited for hunters." Karen looked at Sören. "I can see that being true of medicine, as well."  
  
Sören put his cup down and began to scratch his armpits. "Me caveman. Me invent fire. Me cut back. Me stab brain."  
  
Anthony facepalmed, chuckling. " _Sören._ "  
  
"Sometimes I think David Attenborough ought to be narrating when I hear you with Craig," Geir quipped.  
  
Sören almost spat his coffee. Karen doubled over, face red, and Ben rolled his eyes. Geir gave Ben an awkward look and said, "Sorry."  
  
"It's fine," Ben said.  
  
Anthony had a feeling there was tension between Ben and Craig, and that the topic of Craig was a sore spot for Ben; it would explain why Craig came to Sunday dinners but didn't go to Starbucks on Tuesdays. Anthony suspected it had to do with Craig's prior drug history, but he wasn't going to ask about that here and now.  
  
Seeming to sense the tension, Sören turned to Anthony, eyebrows raised. "When is the appointment for your eval?"  
  
"Two weeks from today. Tuesday the twenty-ninth. It's a late afternoon appointment, four PM. I hope nobody will take this the wrong way, but it's going to be pretty nerve-wracking so I probably won't be up for a group get-together afterwards."  
  
"We understand," Ben said, and Pierre nodded.  
  
"Still," Sören said, "it might help to have someone go with you to the appointment. Instead of your mum, I mean."  
  
Anthony nodded. "You're right." Anthony also knew that one of the group here wouldn't coddle him and let him lose his nerve and go home, while if he had a meltdown, that might be exactly what Elaine did was just take him home.  
  
Sören pulled out his phone and checked his schedule, and then he frowned. "Shit," he said. He gave Anthony an apologetic look. "I'm working until late that Tuesday evening. They're throwing some more hours at me over the next two weeks because I asked for this weekend off."  
  
"Oh!" Anthony knew it was rare Sören got entire weekends off, and he felt a twinge of nostalgia, thinking about when they used to go to Brighton together.  
  
Sören nodded. "Nick wanted to take me out this weekend, he's been planning something for a few weeks now."  
  
Now the twinge of nostalgia turned into a twinge of regret - wishing he'd never fucked things up - and feeling a little jealous of Nicholas. He didn't want to feel that way.  
  
Before Anthony could fret too much, Geir said, "I'm free that afternoon, if you don't mind me coming with you instead."  
  
"I don't mind if _you_ don't mind," Anthony said. "I don't want you to feel obligated -"  
  
"Considering I have orchestra practice all day and my time to just relax is precious to me, if I minded I wouldn't offer," Geir said.  
  
"OK." Anthony felt a little weird about going to something so personal with someone he was just getting to know, but he appreciated the kindness. He smiled. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. And after, if you want to get a bite to eat, I'll treat you as a way of saying 'good job for getting it done', I know these sorts of things are scary."  
  
"I mean, I can afford it -" Even though Anthony was out of work, he had savings, and he was living with his parents rent-free.  
  
Geir waved his hand dismissively. "Consider it a gift to a friend."  
  
"Wait," Sören said, and then he started scratching his armpits again, scratching his beard and his head. "You take gift. He make friend."  
  
"Goddammit, Sören." But Anthony was amused rather than offended - it was Sören's eccentric way of trying to make him feel better, one "hunter" to another.  
  
"Sören, you're ridiculous," Karen said, smiling.  
  
" _Takk_ ," Sören said.  
  
Anthony's eyes met Geir's across the table, and Geir smiled too. And as nervous as Anthony was about the impending evaluation, and what it would mean, he felt comforted that nobody was judging him... just the opposite.  
  
Under the table, Sören reached for his hand and squeezed. And in the warmth of Sören's touch, it really did feel like Sören's joke was sort of true, that he'd invented fire.


	14. Interlude

Sören wasn't a morning person, especially not if he'd worked late the night before, but he was still willing to get up early on the morning of Saturday the nineteenth - or early for him, which was before eleven AM after a late night - and take the train three hours one way, from London to Devon. They were taking an overnight trip; Geir had offered to come over and watch Tobias for them, which was a load off Nicholas and Sören's minds.  
  
Not that Sören could even think much, let alone worry, as he continued to wake up while the train rolled out, his head resting on Nicholas's shoulder. Nicholas had made plans weeks in advance, and it was still a surprise to Sören what they were doing, though he now knew they were going someplace in Devon. Sören liked having a cozy, domestic life with Nicholas, his schedule was such that he didn't expect grand courtship gestures, but nonetheless he appreciated that Nicholas did in fact have a romantic streak and wanted to go on a little getaway. And though Sören liked rain and would have been glad to go rain or shine, he knew Nicholas had been fretting about the weather forecast and he was relieved for Nicholas's sake that the rain had finally let up and the morning was sunny and clear.  
  
Just the train ride itself set a romantic mood. As Sören gradually began to feel more awake and alert, he found himself looking out the window. Some of the trees were beginning to turn, while others stayed green, and Sören liked the mixture of green with the occasional blaze of gold, red and orange, underneath the brilliant blue sky. Sören truly loved the changing seasons - in the dreams where he was in another body, he was living in a place that seemed always summer, except towards the end when he had exiled to someplace more arctic. The endless summer felt incredibly boring and bland - like a gilded prison. There was beauty in every season, and Sören especially liked the drama of spring and fall. It made him want to paint. The autumn-kissed English countryside passing by through the train window stirred that urge to paint even more. He didn't want to take away from his weekend with Nicholas, but _soon._ Soon, he would need to create something.  
  
Nicholas rubbed Sören's shoulder. Sören turned his head and they nuzzled, Nicholas stroking Sören's cheek with a smile. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Mhm." Sören smiled back and wriggled happily in his seat. "I never knew England was so pretty." He realized how bad that sounded, and he quickly added, "I'm not saying it's ugly or anything -"  
  
Nicholas chuckled and patted him. "No, but you've spent most of your time in the greater London area, you haven't seen much of the country, have you?"  
  
Sören shook his head. "I've been to Brighton a number of times, with Anthony, but that's about it."  
  
"We shall have to remedy that. I'd like to take you to see other parts of England... and eventually, Scotland and Cornwall and Wales." Nicholas stroked Sören's hand. "I took Karen and Geir with me to Wales in summer 2014."  
  
Sören was happy for them - he always got warm fuzzies hearing about the way Nicholas was a "dad" to them, he loved that - but he also felt an ache, wishing he could have been there. Summer 2014 he was still grieving for Anthony, it had been less than a year since the breakup, Sören was still very much not OK, and drowning his sorrows in work, taking ninety-hour weeks that summer to allow other colleagues to go on holiday, so he didn't have to think of how other people were going on holiday with their loved ones and he was alone.  
  
Nicholas seemed to sense how that period of time was a sore spot for Sören. He took Sören's hand and kissed it, before pressing it to his heart, his eyes soft. "We'll make up for lost time."  
  
Sören pushed himself back to the present, not wanting to be sad, especially when Anthony was back in his life. "I'd like to see more of France, too. I went to Paris years ago, but... I'd like to see where your family comes from."  
  
Nicholas was delighted by that. "My family is from northern France," Nicholas said. "Oise. We could arrange for a trip there... perhaps next year."  
  
"Maybe I should learn French."  
  
"Well, most people do speak English. But I think that learning other languages is useful. As you know, I speak French, Greek and Latin."  
  
"Anthony still has you beat," Sören said. "He speaks at least five languages and he's learning more."  
  
Nicholas's eyebrows went up, and Sören hoped Nicholas wasn't going to take it the wrong way - he wasn't trying to make some sort of comparison and make Nicholas feel inferior, he didn't feel that way at all - but then Nicholas said, "That's fascinating. I knew he was well-read, but I also respect that he's learnt other languages. Perhaps there is hope for the younger generation after all."  
  
Sören laughed at that, delighted. "Hey now."  
  
Nicholas poked the tip of Sören's nose. " _Vous avez vous-même un esprit très vif, en tant que médecin. J'aime juste te taquiner. Si vous le donnez, vous devriez pouvoir le prendre, non?_ "  
  
Sören growled and fought off the urge to kiss him. While it was 2015 and nobody else on the train seemed to care much about the obvious gestures of affection between two men, Sören still didn't want to cause a scene by tongue-kissing him in public... and he would get himself too worked up besides. As it was, just hearing Nicholas speak French made his cock stir in his jeans, never mind also kissing him.  
  
Nicholas gave him a wicked little smile, eyes gleaming, as if he knew _exactly_ the kind of effect speaking French had on Sören. He looked out the window to admire the landscape again, and then he turned back to Sören. " _Un jour, j'aimerais vous emmener dans un champ à la campagne, apporter un panier-repas ... et vous embrasser et vous lécher partout pour le dessert. Je veux t'emmener là-bas dans l'herbe, et te faire crier mon nom, entendre ta voix sonner dans le ciel._ "  
  
Sören's cock throbbed and he made a high-pitched noise of frustration, glaring at Nicholas teasing him like this. Nicholas's smile got bigger and he chuckled as he patted Sören, tousled Sören's curls.  
  
"I don't know what you just said," Sören said, "but you're fucking evil, you know that."  
  
Nicholas laughed harder. "Thank you."  
  
  
_  
  
  
At the train station in Devon, a car was waiting for them, and they were driven to a car rental. Once the car was leased, Nicholas and Sören got into the brown Vauxhall and Sören rolled the window down a little to enjoy the smoky autumn air, the gentle breeze in his curls. Then, a few minutes down the road, Sören cocked his head to one side. "You know, I didn't realize you drive."  
  
Nicholas nodded. "I had a vehicle when I taught at Merton College. When I downsized and moved to central London, I saw no reason to own a vehicle anymore, I can walk or take transit to wherever I need to go."  
  
"What kind of car did you have? Just out of curiosity."  
  
"A Jaguar," Nicholas said. "Black."  
  
That was definitely a nice car, but also elegant in an understated sort of way, not flashy like a Citroën, Sören's dream car if he ever tried to start driving in England, and he'd seen enough of London traffic to not be especially enthusiastic about the idea. It also seemed a little less flashy than Anthony's Audi, and once again Sören felt bad that Anthony's love of driving had been taken away from him by the accident.  
  
In any case, Nicholas's choice of car in his driving days seemed to fit his personality - a man of refined taste, simple dark elegance. Sören liked that about him.  
  
Their first stop was a supermarket in the area. Sören couldn't resist ribbing Nicholas a little as they got out of the Vauxhall and began walking across the parking lot together, hand in hand. "Oh wow, a supermarket! What a romantic surprise, Nick, you shouldn't have."  
  
Nicholas gave Sören a look, and Sören stuck his tongue out, and Nicholas tweaked Sören's nose, giving an eyeroll and a chuckle.  
  
If they were going to a supermarket, that meant they probably weren't going to spend the night in a hotel, but Nicholas also hadn't brought camping gear and didn't quite seem like the type to rough it anyway. Sören wondered about it as they walked through the store. Nicholas marched like he was on a mission, with a very clear idea of what he was getting - steak, mushrooms and bamboo skewers, potatoes, bacon and a pancake mix, and some drinks he knew Sören enjoyed, like ginger ale. When they checked out, Sören gave Nicholas a curious look, dying to know what they were doing, but Nicholas wasn't saying anything about it.  
  
They got back in the car, driving deeper into the forest, a more secluded area. When Sören's curiosity reached a fever pitch and he began tugging on Nicholas's sleeve, Nicholas finally pointed and Sören saw it - a group of treehouses.  
  
Their first act after parking was to check in, and the host was warm and friendly, making sure they had everything they needed. They were then brought out to their treehouse, which reminded Sören of cabins he'd seen in Iceland, the floors and walls of pitch pine. The open plan living area contained a king-sized bed and had light flooding in from the wall-to-wall windows and folding doors. The kitchen was fully equipped, there was comfortable-looking furniture in the living area and even some board games, and a woodstove that reminded Sören of their home.  
  
The folding doors led out to a deck, and out on the deck Sören saw a hot tub. Sören let out a low whistle, a grin lighting up his face.  
  
Nicholas began loading the fridge with the perishables from the grocery run, and then he walked over to his rolling suitcase, zipped it open, and pulled out a bottle of champagne, which he also added to the fridge. Sören threw his head back and laughed, tickled by that little touch.  
  
"Oh, Nick." Sören did a twirl around the living area. "I love it. I love _you._ "  
  
"Just wait," Nicholas said. "The magic hasn't begun yet."  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
Nicholas led Sören back out to the car, and they went for a little drive. Nicholas brought him to Okehampton Castle, and they made an afternoon of walking the castle ruins, in a beautiful woodland setting. Nicholas explained that the castle was almost a thousand years old, and Sören felt almost like he was transported into the past, barely able to speak as he took it all in, a reverent hush when he could make words at all. The land seemed to sing with a sort of energy, as if it was alive - something that felt mad to Sören, but he could deny the presence nonetheless. _The memories this place holds._  
  
It also seemed to Sören that Nicholas himself had the presence of a king. Sören thought of the dreams of his brother-lovers... Nicholas younger, with a flood of black hair, eyes as blue as the sky above. As Nicholas strode, surveying the castle ruins, Sören had a brief vision in his mind's eye of that brother-lover arriving at a castle, seeing the _destruction_ , ready to fight for him, ready to start a revolution...  
  
Sören threw his arms around Nicholas and kissed the tip of his nose. "I think they'd love it. I love it, so far."  
  
"It gets better."  
  
Sören laughed. "It's hard to top what we're doing right now."  
  
"It would be nice to visit this place again, when we have more time. There's a lot more to do in the area - I could take you to Lydford Castle and Saxon Town. And Lydford Gorge." Nicholas sighed. "We could make an entire week of it, really."  
  
Sören felt a twinge of guilt, knowing his schedule made it difficult to go on holiday for an entire week even when it seemed the rest of the world had time off. Nicholas, of course, taught at UCL five days a week, and it didn't look like he'd be retiring anytime soon, but he could still put in for vacation time more readily than Sören could.  
  
Nicholas pulled Sören close, seeming to notice Sören's sadness. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad, sweetheart."  
  
"It's OK, Daddy." Sören kissed his cheek and nuzzled him. "Someday."  
  
"Indeed. In the meantime, though..." Nicholas took a deep breath and looked around. "I daresay this is a fine weekend so far."  
  
"It's brilliant." Sören squeezed him. "Just this alone was worth coming out this way, never mind the treehouse. My god."  
  
When they came back from seeing the castle ruins, they headed up to the treehouse, and Sören thought Nicholas was going to start making dinner right there in the kitchen, but to his surprise, Nicholas led him back down, and Sören followed him out to an area with grills, a firepit, and picnic tables. Sören clapped his hands and squeaked - Icelanders enjoyed barbecue any time of year and it had been something sorely lacking from his life since he'd moved to England. Sören watched Nicholas grill the steaks and the skewers of mushrooms and potatoes, and his stomach growled at the delicious smells. And his pulse quickened and stomach fluttered every time Nicholas turned to look at him, smiling. Sören was still very much in love with Nicholas, and that feeling of love was all the stronger for Nicholas going to all this trouble.  
  
They ate outside in the picnic area, as the sun was setting in a blaze of orange and pink and red that softened to peach and lavender. That, too, was wonderfully romantic. Though Sören was ravenous from the delicious smell of the food, he ate slowly, savoring, and not just the food itself, but the peace and quiet of being out here in the forest, watching the fire in the sky... feeling the fire in his heart.  
  
After they finished eating they just sat for awhile, cuddling, watching the sunset fade to twilight.  
  
"This has been the perfect day," Sören said.  
  
"Good, I'm glad." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
Sören grabbed Nicholas's face and claimed his mouth, kissing him hard. Both men groaned as their tongues met, swirling, a promise of more sensual pleasure to come. Sören began to rub Nicholas's chest, thumb teasing a nipple through the fabric of his shirt; Sören smiled into the kiss as Nicholas moaned. When they pulled apart, breathing harder, Sören's hand slid from Nicholas's chest down over his stomach and thigh, and Sören began rubbing his knee. "You know what would be the perfect end to the perfect day?" Sören started trailing little kisses along Nicholas's jaw, nose rubbing the beard, knowing Nicholas was sensitive. "You and me in that hot tub, and then I ride you."  
  
"I'd like that," Nicholas husked, and he kissed Sören back. Sören's cock throbbed, and it was all Sören could do to not rip Nicholas's clothes off, push him into the grass, and ride him here and now. When Nicholas pulled back, he gave Sören a wicked, teasing little smile. "But not just yet."  
  
Sören gave Nicholas a look.  
  
Nicholas chuckled. "I have one more thing to show you."  
  
"What, your cock?"  
  
Nicholas laughed harder. He facepalmed and shook his head. "No, Mister One Track Mind."  
  
"Excuse me, I have at least sixty-nine tracks."  
  
Now Nicholas gave him a look, and Sören grinned. Nicholas reached around and playfully swatted Sören's ass - which just made Sören's cock throb again - and then Nicholas stood up from the picnic table and grabbed Sören's hands, bringing him to his feet. "Come. It's time for the _pièce de résistance_."  
  
  
_  
  
  
The _pièce de résistance_ was the Dartmoor National Reserve. And after they were far enough away from the streetlights, Sören saw exactly why they had come.  
  
During the daytime, the vast moor would be beautiful in a stark, haunting way. But at night, the sky in the secluded area was dark... dark enough to see the sea of stars above.  
  
Sören was from Akureyri in the north of Iceland, and it was a short enough drive to get free of the small city's light pollution and see the stars, as well as to see the aurora in winter. But he hadn't seen a clear, light-pollution-free night sky since he'd moved to Reykjavik, and certainly not living in London.  
  
And even with Sören's memories of having seen the Milky Way in the rural north of Iceland, it was still an amazing sight that never got old. Indeed, it had been long enough since Sören had last seen a clear dark sky that it was like seeing it for the first time. Sören's breath was taken away, tears burning his eyes.  
  
There was always still a profound sense of awe looking at all the stars. It reminded him of how small Earth really was - Carl Sagan's "tiny blue dot". It reminded him of how humanity really needed to learn to band together as not to destroy themselves, their unique place in the cosmos lost forever. Once again Sören felt a bitterness towards religion, especially the sort of fundamentalism that had poisoned his aunt Katrín, a fundamentalism that was mercifully rare in Iceland. While, looking up at the stars and feeling that sense of awe and wonder and smallness, Sören could understand how some could connect it to the concept of a god or gods, Sören felt that all religion had done was divide people and make them hate for petty reasons. He was not as strong an atheist as his brother, if only because he didn't see the point of arguing with people about it, but he felt that humanity needed to outgrow religion and gods to save itself. Indeed, it seemed to Sören that if there were gods, lurking in the strangeness of the cosmos, they were evil, stirring strife - even the ancient polytheistic gods had supported wars and conquests.  
  
A frisson went down Sören's spine. _How do you think you died and ended up in this life? You tried to fight the gods then._  
  
Sören gave a nervous little laugh - that thought was the most mad of all - then he clapped his hand over his mouth, feeling as if he'd done something wrong by making that sort of noise out here in this place.  
  
"Are you all right?" Nicholas whispered.  
  
"Yeah," Sören said, and reached for Nicholas's hand, squeezing. "I'm..." Sören put his head on Nicholas's shoulder. _My religion is you. And Anthony._ Sören couldn't deny it, even though it would take a year for Anthony to prove he could be trusted again. He felt like they were a part of him, the thought of losing either one unbearable. Sören looked back up at the stars, endless, infinite, burning bright. "This is fucking beautiful, Nick."  
  
Nicholas put an arm around him. "I wanted to do something beautiful for you, Sören. You deserve to have beauty in your life... beautiful moments."  
  
" _You're_ beautiful." Sören cupped Nicholas's chin and turned Nicholas's face to his. In the starlight and shadow, Sören's fingers traced the wrinkles and the whiskers - some might think the signs of old age were ugly, but to Sören they gave Nicholas character, and he wanted Nicholas to feel the love in his touch. Sören's hand slid down to rest on Nicholas's heart. "You have a beautiful heart. I know you're cool and reserved with the world, but I know the truth of you, the way your heart burns like the starfire."  
  
Nicholas put his hand on Sören's hand, and his other hand reached to touch Sören's face. "Those are beautiful words... and sound even lovelier in your accent, darling."  
  
Sören grasped for levity before he could start bawling right there, loving Nicholas so fiercely it _hurt_. "Herpes. Enema. Cockroaches."  
  
"You know..."  
  
"I know." Sören laughed, then he wrapped his arms around Nicholas and kissed him hard, deep and hungry. The kiss brought on that giddy mixture of lust and joy, and Sören erupted into a gigglefit in the kiss, as Nicholas chuckled and swatted Sören's bottom. Then the laughter turned to tears, as if any emotion had broken the dam. Nicholas kissed Sören's tears, rocked him, pet him.  
  
"It's so beautiful out here," Sören sobbed. That, too, hurt - not just the intense feelings of love for Nicholas, giving him this, but how amazing the sight was of all those stars. And how _good_ it was to share this moment of wonder with the man he loved, the man he shared his life with.  
  
They held each other tight, rocking together, and then they were kissing again, and again... and again. They pulled apart to catch their breath, look up at the stars, and have their breath taken away all over again, and kissed some more, laughing and crying, drunk on love, drunk on the glory of the world.  
  
The magic wasn't over when they returned to the treehouse. There was a bath in addition to the hot tub, and Sören cleaned up in preparation for what they were going to do in awhile, before they got in the hot tub together. Nicholas poured out the champagne and they drank in the toasty bubbles underneath the stars - the sky not quite as impressive as it had been on the moor, but still starry and beautiful. Snuggling together drinking champagne in the hot tub was an even more perfect end to a perfect day, and Sören gave a happy sigh, curling his toes.  
  
Soon they were kissing again, necking, caressing each other, their cocks hardening to life. They reached for each other's cocks under the bubbles, stroking slowly. Sören drank his champagne to the dregs and chased the last drops with licking inside the glass, demonstrating to Nicholas what his tongue could do, before their mouths met again.  
  
They made their way from the hot tub on the deck, through the doors, to the bed, kissing feverishly, running their hands over each other, cock rubbing cock as they walked. They fell onto the bed together, laughing, and then Sören rolled Nicholas onto his back, nipping at Nicholas's throat with a hungry growl. Nicholas chuckled and slapped Sören's ass, making Sören's cock jolt.  
  
"So impatient, my sweet," Nicholas husked.  
  
"I want your cock in me _now_ , dammit."  
  
"I'm sure you do." Nicholas smirked. "But I'd like to spoil you a little more first."  
  
"You can spoil me by putting that cock in me -"  
  
Nicholas put a finger to Sören's lips and traced Sören's lips with his thumb. Then his thumb strayed to play with a pierced nipple, making Sören gasp, cock throbbing. "May I?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"You may." Sören bit his lower lip, a shiver going through him, knowing how delicious more teasing would be.  
  
Nicholas kissed him, and now Nicholas rolled Sören onto his back. Sören lay there arched, panting, moaning, as Nicholas kissed and licked him all over, from his neck and throat down from one shoulder to a nipple, across to the other nipple, up to the other shoulder, back down to the nipples, fingers playing over Sören's stomach and thighs. Then Nicholas's mouth was on Sören's stomach, as his hand wrapped around Sören's cock, stroking gently. Nicholas kissed, licked, and nibbled Sören's thighs, and then he just licked and licked at Sören's shaft, making Sören whimper, cry out, shuddering, clutching at him. Nicholas drew Sören's cock into his mouth inch by inch, and began to suck slowly, eyes locked with Sören's, murmuring his pleasure with his mouth full. Nicholas's left hand went back and forth between Sören's nipples, rubbing, pinching, tugging on the rings, and Nicholas's right hand cupped Sören's balls, rubbing gently.  
  
"Daddy." Sören thrashed, and let out a high-pitched noise, completely lost in pleasure... wanting to come, but not wanting Nicholas to stop sucking at him, it was so good. And it was so _hot_ to see the lust in Nicholas's eyes, to see his passion for sucking Sören, worshiping his cock.  
  
Sören didn't last much longer, letting out a hoarse shout as he spent into Nicholas's mouth. Nicholas swallowed his cream down with an appreciative "mmmmm" and after a few licks at the remaining flow, he came up to kiss Sören. Tasting himself on Nicholas's mouth, and the sensuality of the kiss, made Sören's cock rise again. Nicholas laughed softly as his own hard cock rubbed up against Sören's.  
  
"So insatiable," Nicholas said.  
  
"You love it."  
  
"I do." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. " _Now_ you can ride me, sweetheart."  
  
Sören poured lube over Nicholas's cock, and hand, and stroked Nicholas's cock slowly as Nicholas's fingers readied him, one then two then three, slowly rubbing away at that magic spot. Soon Sören was fucking himself on Nicholas's fingers, whimpering, and Nicholas lay on his back, giving Sören a "well?" look.  
  
Sören climbed on Nicholas, straddling him, and sank down. When they were fully joined, they both sighed with pleasure. Sören took Nicholas's hands and began to ride, slow and easy, and the slow rhythm on his prostate teased him right back to the edge. Sören started riding harder and faster, until he was bucking wildly, grabbing onto Nicholas's shoulders as Nicholas grabbed his hips, matching Sören's furious rhythm, pounding away.  
  
"Yes, sweetheart," Nicholas rasped. "That's a good boy. That's a good boy..."  
  
Nicholas knew how that affected Sören, who gave a whimper and then a growl, riding even harder, giving it all he had. The pleasure and tension built and built until it exploded, Sören's cock shooting over Nicholas's chest as Sören cried out, " _Daddy!_ "  
  
A few seconds later Nicholas shook with his own release and Sören groaned at the feeling of that hot flood inside him, loving that feeling of being claimed. "That's my boy," Nicholas said, and pulled Sören down into a deep, passionate kiss.  
  
Sören snuggled into Nicholas's chest, feeling radiant bliss that made him feel like he was a sparkle, like one of the stars above. He smiled as Nicholas pet his curls, rubbed his back. Tender little kisses became longer, more lingering, and then the hunger overcame them both again, hard cocks rubbing together. Now Nicholas gently pushed Sören onto his back, and Sören spread to him, guiding Nicholas's cock to his opening. When Nicholas was all the way inside, he kissed Sören and whispered, "I love you, darling."  
  
"I love you too." Sören nuzzled him, and wrapped his arms around him. "So much."  
  
They kept it slow for longer this time, eyes locked, foreheads pressed together, noses rubbing, hands sliding over each other's bodies, wanting to feel every part of each other that they could touch. Sören felt so close to him, felt so _right_ with him. It seemed with each thrust Sören wasn't just taking Nicholas into his body, but deeper and deeper into his heart, into his soul.  
  
They kissed as they got to that edge again, Nicholas thrusting into him faster. And again, moaning into the kiss, Sören holding him tight. Their eyes met again and they breathed each other's breath, and Sören felt Nicholas tremble against him as his own pleasure climbed that point of no return.  
  
Nicholas gasped out, "Darling, I'm going to -"  
  
"Come with me," Sören said.  
  
Nicholas let out a mighty roar as his second orgasm overtook him, and Sören was right there, also crying out as his cock spouted over Nicholas's torso. They kissed deeply, hearts thundering together as the pleasure throbbed through them, and then Sören sighed with contentment.  
  
"That was beautiful," Sören said.  
  
"You're beautiful." Nicholas rained kisses over Sören's face.  
  
After three shattering orgasms, Sören soon fell asleep, cozy in Nicholas's arms, legs entwined.  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
Sören is laying between his brother-lovers, tangled up with them after making passionate love for hours, coming to climax after climax. Basking in the afterglow now, feeling so much joy that it rivals the light of the fire in the hearth... the light of the stars in the sky.  
  
The light is all the more precious for the depression Sören has tasted, feeling the distance with his wife, continuing to evade his father's approval. He has his work in the forge to sustain him... and he has this.  
  
He wraps other-Anthony's silver-gold hair around himself like a blanket, and he feels absolutely safe. Like he has come home. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes are Nicholas's - blue in this body, instead of dark brown, blue fire like the stars.  
  
He thinks of that moment, holding it close to him after they have gone back to their estates and he is in the forge again, alone. He wants to capture that moment... that feeling... its energy, its power. It seems to Sören that the power of their love for each other is the strongest force in the world, the fuel to his fire, the source of the magic that he weaves with each weapon, each shield, each piece of jewelry.  
  
A blasphemous thought: his brothers are more worthy of being gods, than the gods.  
  
His brothers understand what it is to truly _love_.  
  
He needs to make something to express everything he is feeling, thinking right now. He pauses his work, sits and closes his eyes, and he sees three gems, one for himself, one for each of his brothers. They burn like the stars. They burn with that power of love, and the way that love can make things right. The light it gives in the darkness.  
  
It will be his finest work.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören woke up laying on his side, with Nicholas spooning him, the fur of Nicholas's chest against his back. It felt nice.  
  
Sören realized that he'd woken up without an alarm, and without Nicholas waking him up, though, from the way Nicholas's arms tightened around him as he stirred, Nicholas had been up for at least a few minutes.  
  
Nicholas began kissing the back of Sören's neck, making him shiver. "Good morning, my love."  
  
"Hey." Sören tilted his face and they rubbed noses and kissed. "What time is it?"  
  
"Seven."  
  
"Seven on a Sunday morning?"  
  
The sun was rising now, and Sören's breath was once again taken away by the pink and orange glow in the sky, the golden light through the treetops. Waking up in the trees was one of the best feelings in the world - Sören wouldn't hate mornings so much if every morning could be like this.  
  
"I'll make you pancakes and bacon for breakfast," Nicholas said. "I know how much you love that, it's why I picked it up at the supermarket last night."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
"But first..." Nicholas kissed him again, and Sören smiled into the kiss as he felt Nicholas's hard cock rub against the crack of his ass. "Shall we?"  
  
"Let's." Sören sighed happily and rolled onto his stomach, and sighed again, flexing his fingers and toes with contentment as Nicholas pushed into him, the weight of Nicholas on his back comforting. Nicholas began to thrust slowly, kissing Sören's neck and nape and shoulder, and Sören moaned into the pillows, losing himself once again in pleasure, in joy.


	15. Chemistry

As nervous as Anthony had been before the evaluation, he found it even harder to walk back into the waiting room, than when he had left it. There was the adrenaline crash, and now the new anxiety of waiting to hear back the results; he was told he'd hear something from his therapist in about two weeks. That frustrated him, especially when he had a feeling that the evaluation was going to confirm he was both on the autistic spectrum and had attention deficit disorder, but he knew the professional wanted to carefully review the information and not make snap judgments. And not just the information from the evaluation itself, but the psychologist he'd met with was also going to be interviewing his mother later in the week to ask about Anthony's traits from another perspective.  
  
Geir had brought an arts magazine with him to the clinic, and he closed the magazine when he saw Anthony hobbling out on his cane. Geir stood up, smiling warmly. "Hey," Geir said.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said. He still felt self-conscious about Geir being there, even though he was grateful for the support - Sören would have been his ideal choice to bring, but of course Sören had to work, that couldn't be helped. Anthony supposed it was just as well, with Sören wanting him to make friends... and he himself needed a friend. Nonetheless, Anthony felt awkward, an intense sense of embarrassment even though he knew if the situation was reversed, he wouldn't judge Geir for having either or both of those diagnoses, and he certainly didn't judge Sören for having ADHD now that he knew.  
  
Geir began walking him out to the exit, calling a cab on the way to the door. Once outside, they sat on a bench together. The fresh air was welcome; Anthony took some deep breaths, trying to calm down. The sun was already starting to set.  
  
"So, how did it go?" Geir asked.  
  
Anthony gave a nervous laugh. "It went." He fidgeted a little. "I felt like I was on trial," he admitted. "I have a better appreciation for what I've put people through on the witness stand."  
  
"That sounds bad."  
  
"It was very..." Anthony searched for the right word. "Invasive. I got asked a lot of deeply personal questions about my hygiene, my sexual and relationship history, various habits... things I normally wouldn't discuss with a stranger. Things I don't even really discuss with people I know. I realize that the psychologist was trying to be very thorough - no stone left unturned. I know that from my own experience of cross-examining witnesses. I've made people squirm the way I squirmed today."  
  
Geir nodded. "Well, I still think you did the right thing by going to the eval. Now your therapist can give you coping strategies tailored to your own needs." Geir patted him. "It's not all that different from the way I eat and exercise, compared to some of the other people I know who frequent my gym. There's the conventional wisdom to work certain muscles, and eat healthy, but then, different builds favor different exercises and different metabolisms favor different eating styles."  
  
"I suppose you're right." That made a lot of sense to Anthony, and he was glad Geir made that analogy, it made him feel a little less awkward about everything. But then that feeling of dread crept up on him again. "I won't know, of course, what the test results are for another two weeks."  
  
"Officially. I think you already know Helen wouldn't have suggested you get evaluated if there wasn't something."  
  
"Officially," Anthony agreed. "But still. The waiting game is nerve-wracking."  
  
"You'll get through it. We'll all find ways to distract you." Geir smiled again. He had a really nice smile, especially the way it lit up his blue eyes. Anthony smiled back, his cheeks flushed.  
  
Geir gave him some much-needed peace and quiet as they waited for the cab. Anthony watched the sunset, pink and orange streaked across a deep blue. His head continued to spin with all the questions the psychologist had asked him, and how vulnerable he felt now, compelled to answer honestly even when the answer was unflattering, like Anthony admitting he'd been a late bloomer sexually. Anthony didn't like feeling this exposed, and part of him just wanted to go home instead of going out to dinner with Geir. But he didn't want to back out now, he thought that would be rude, and he also acknowledged that running and hiding probably wasn't the healthiest thing for him to do, instead of seeking support and comfort.  
  
At least the sunset was nice. Every now and again Anthony glanced over at Geir, feeling nervous... and he couldn't help but notice that Geir was really attractive, especially bathed in the glow of the sunset. Geir was wearing a dark grey T-shirt with black jeans, and a black hooded sweatshirt to account for it being cooler at night but not yet properly cold. Casual, but still coordinated, and there was a sort of easy confidence to him that suggested Geir could get away with wearing just about anything. Anthony also finally noticed that Geir kind of looked like he could be Sören's brother; the goatee helped with that, though Sören had a full beard. When Geir smiled at him again, their eyes met, and Anthony thought to himself _He has really nice eyes_.  
  
Followed by _Shit, don't look at him like that._  
  
Anthony's cheeks burned even more. Then, mercifully, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Even if it was Elaine, Anthony was still glad for some sort of distraction. It wasn't Elaine; it was Sören.  
  
 _Hey, I'm on break, I wanted to check in on you,_ said the text.  
  
Anthony bit his lower lip, feeling all fluttery even though it was just a text from Sören. _I finished the eval. I won't know for another two weeks._  
  
 _That sucks. You OK?_  
  
Anthony replied with _Eh, you know how it is. I feel like I just got out of court._  
  
Sören sent back heart emojis, and Anthony's stomach fluttered again. _Let Geir take your mind off things,_ Sören texted then. _Try to relax now._  
  
 _I miss you,_ Anthony typed.  
  
 _I miss you too,_ Sören replied. _I wish I could have been there. But I've been thinking about you._  
  
Anthony sent back a heart emoji. He wanted to type _I love you_ but he held back - they still weren't back together yet, they weren't going to be back together for awhile. That was a wait even worse than waiting for his diagnosis.  
  
When Anthony put his phone back in his pocket, Geir asked simply, "Sören?"  
  
Anthony nodded. He sighed.  
  
"You know, that's another benefit of finding out about yourself," Geir said. "It'll help with relationship communication strategies."  
  
"I suppose," Anthony said. He gave a wry smile. "Sören and I aren't..."  
  
"You will be," Geir assured him. "Sören loves you."  
  
"I love him," Anthony said.  
  
Geir nodded. "It's hard not to."  
  
Their cab came, and after they piled in, Anthony asked something he was curious about. "How did you and..." His voice trailed off, feeling like he was prying.  
  
"How did I get together with Sören?" Geir asked.  
  
Anthony nodded, feeling sheepish.  
  
"I was having migraines and random body aches and spasms last year, and finally the Orchestra sent me to the National to get some tests done. He was my doctor. Karen went with me to the appointment and they'd met each other years ago, in Reykjavik, so it was a really wild coincidence their paths crossed again. Karen fancied him, but... I couldn't help it myself. And, well, you know how he is. So after Karen gave me her blessing I asked him out. That was back in December."  
  
Anthony did the math. "So almost a year."  
  
"Almost a year," Geir said, nodding.  
  
"And it was before Nicholas... you didn't try to make it more serious?"  
  
"Well, no," Geir said. "He was still recovering from what happened with _you_ , and even if he hadn't been... don't get me wrong, I love him, I have feelings for him, but I'm about as bad at monogamy as he is, if not worse. He can do the nesting partner thing with Nicholas... I'm OK with not having someone like that, and moving around more freely. I prefer it, actually."  
  
"So... you and Pierre."  
  
"Yeah, that happened," Geir said.  
  
"But not Ben?"  
  
"No, we're not really each other's types. Which is funny because he does have a lot in common with Sören, and obviously I'm attracted to Sören. Though as much as they have in common, they're also different, too. It's hard to explain."  
  
"Oh, it doesn't need an explanation. I... I'm not trying to put you on the spot and make you justify anything to me," Anthony said. "It was more of an icebreaker. Also, I haven't known many... polyamorous? People. Before now."  
  
"It's still an adjustment for you, isn't it?" Geir asked.  
  
Anthony nodded. Then Anthony nervously glanced at the cab driver in the front of the cab, and hoped that the cab driver either wasn't listening to them or didn't care. Anthony swallowed hard.  
  
"Are you seeing anyone else?" Anthony asked, and then he realized immediately how that sounded, and restrained the facepalm, trying to stay nonchalant. He hoped Geir would just take it as the natural curiosity of a lawyer, getting to know a new person.  
  
Geir shook his head. Then he said, "Well..."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"There was someone else for a brief while, someone else in the orchestra, a violinist. It... didn't work out, and he ended up leaving. Transferring to another orchestra, last I heard."  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony said sincerely.  
  
Geir nodded. "It wasn't meant to be, I guess."  
  
"Was he not able to handle you being non-monogamous, or..."  
  
"To be honest, I don't know what it was. He never gave me an explanation. I thought things were fine and then he just ghosted me. I had to hear from other people that he transferred, he didn't even have the courtesy of telling me."  
  
Anthony let out a low whistle. He felt a twinge of sympathy. "Jesus _Christ._ "  
  
"I mean, like I said... I don't really do serious, settle-down-like-we're-married type relationships, but I won't lie and say I'm not disappointed, either."  
  
"Of course you'd be disappointed," Anthony said. He gave a bitter laugh. "Most of my so-called 'friends' ghosted me. Didn't return my calls or my e-mails, didn't tell me why. Trisha, though, was rude to my face and I figured it out."  
  
"It hurts."  
  
"It does," Anthony said. "And I'm sorry you know what it feels like too. I imagine it's got to be even worse from someone you're interested in romantically, even if it's not super serious."  
  
"It wasn't a fun time." Geir frowned. "But I have good friends, and, well... Sören tried to help distract me."  
  
"I bet," Anthony muttered, being all too familiar with Sören's "cheering up" methods.  
  
Geir blinked. "I'm sorry. I hope that isn't a sore spot -"  
  
"It sort of is," Anthony admitted, "but I don't want you to have to... dance on eggshells for me. I knew going back into this Sören has other partners now. I'll get used to it."  
  
"If it's any consolation, I'm sure what he feels for me pales in comparison to what he feels for you," Geir said.  
  
"Even if so... being loved by him, even just a little, is like a consuming fire. It's intense."  
  
"It is," Geir said, nodding. "And that's something we have in common, I suppose. We both love him and are loved by him."  
  
Anthony's mind ended up picturing Geir and Sören together, embracing, that soft look in Sören's eyes that Anthony was all too familiar with... and then the thoughts went _there_ , Geir and Sören tangled up together in passion, writhing, Sören making _those noises_. And as much as it hurt to think of Sören with other people - though he had to accept it - a frisson of arousal went through him as well. He couldn't deny that Sören and Geir made a nice-looking couple, and the thought of them making love together... _Fuck, that's hot._  
  
Anthony internally smacked himself. _Stop that. Don't think of Geir that way._  
  
Before his mind could go too far down that path, the cab was slowing to a stop. "We're here," the cab driver said.  
  
Though Anthony knew Geir was taking him out to dinner, he had thought neither to voice any preferences - he didn't want to sound rude or demanding, especially not when Geir was treating and Anthony had no idea what Geir's budget was like - nor had Anthony thought to ask where they were going. Now he saw that they were in front of a sushi restaurant.  
  
That made Anthony uncomfortable, both because he knew sushi tended to be pricey and he was going to feel weird about Geir spending a lot of money on him, and also because sushi wasn't his favorite. He'd tried it some years ago, since it was considered _de rigueur_ to go to these sorts of places with his old "friends" and other colleagues, and the experience had been unpleasant.  
  
Geir noticed Anthony hesitating when Anthony got out of the cab, and Anthony's face was on fire again, fighting the urge to hobble back to the cab, which was already driving off. "Is everything all right?" Geir asked.  
  
Anthony made a face. He didn't want to lie, but the truth was going to be awkward. "I don't... like... sushi. I'm sorry."  
  
"Well, shit. If I'd known, I would have made a reservation somewhere else." Geir sighed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony repeated, looking down at his shoes, wanting to melt into the sidewalk and die. He didn't want to be any trouble, especially not when Geir had been at practice earlier that day and had been so good about accompanying him to the evaluation rather than going home and resting, Geir was probably looking forward to a good meal. Something Geir liked and could eat when he paid such close attention to his diet.  
  
"Do you mind me asking why you don't like sushi?"  
  
Anthony knew that some people could be defensive about the kind of food they liked - for example it seemed to be a commonly held belief among the British that a dislike of fish and chips was practically grounds for deportation - but this didn't feel like that, Geir didn't seem like the kind of person to stop associating with someone merely for having a different taste in food. Then Anthony's discomfort intensified as he had a moment of realization - he was from a privileged background, and UKIP was gaining a lot of traction among white males, promoting anti-immigrant, anti-white sentiment, and though Anthony hoped it would be obvious to Geir that Sören wouldn't love someone who espoused racist views, Anthony knew that in this political climate it probably looked really bad to say he didn't like sushi. But, it had nothing to do with sushi's cultural origins. "It's the texture," Anthony said honestly. "The combination of raw fish, rice and seaweed together just kind of..." Anthony made a face.  
  
"OK." Geir seemed visibly relieved by that.  
  
"Did you think I was going to say it's because it's Japanese?"  
  
"I was hoping not," Geir said. "I do realize that you would probably have been a lot more uncomfortable around Pierre if you were racist, but..."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. "These are disappointing times, feels like the world is going backward instead of forward."  
  
"I had a Japanese ex," Geir said, "back when I was younger and doing serious relationships."  
  
Anthony nodded again, unfazed by this. It also piqued Anthony's curiosity about Geir, wondering what Geir's life had been like years ago. He wanted to keep getting to know Geir, hear more about his life.  
  
"But also, the other reason why I ask is because... there isn't just sushi here. Is your problem just with the texture, or do you not like fish altogether?"  
  
"I love fish," Anthony said, "which I suppose was a necessary survival skill to being with an Icelander."  
  
Geir chuckled. "OK. If you like fish, if you like steak... there's things here you can eat, instead of us going elsewhere."  
  
Anthony felt a wave of relief. "Good."  
  
They went inside, and were led right to their table. Anthony opened up the menu and sure enough there were things that appealed to him. He watched as Geir got up and made a beeline for the sushi table, and now he was seeing Geir from the back and trying not to notice that Geir had a very shapely ass, his jeans hugging the firm curves of it just right.  
  
 _Stop looking at him like that._ Anthony's face was on fire again.  
  
Geir came back just as the waiter did. Anthony ordered hibachi steak with fried rice and vegetables, and he and Geir began working on a pot of green tea together. Now that Anthony had ordered something appealing, his mind went back to the evaluation. "My food preferences came up during the eval, too," Anthony asked. "The psychologist asked if certain food textures bothered me."  
  
Geir nodded. "I take it the answer was yes?"  
  
"Yes. I don't think of myself as a picky eater - I always liked Sören's cooking, I tried Icelandic food, and I've tried cuisines from other cultures, I really like Indian food and Chinese food, for example... but. It was always uncomfortable to have to explain to somebody else how I could eat something like fried calamari but not a plate of spaghetti. How some more exotic foods didn't bother me and then some more everyday foods do, because of texture." Anthony sighed, staring into his cup of green tea as if it were going to give him answers. "It feels strange to realize that certain things that I thought were just me being weird... there might be some basis to that."  
  
Geir raised an eyebrow. "You don't like spaghetti, huh?"  
  
 _Great, now he thinks I'm weird too._ "I don't like pasta in general. Lasagna is an exception to that, depending on what's in it, but it has a very different shape and texture from spaghetti or linguini or the other types. To make it even weirder, I'm perfectly fine with pad thai noodles."  
  
"Well, those are usually rice noodles and they do have a different texture," Geir said.  
  
"I take it you like pasta."  
  
Geir nodded. "I love pasta, but I have to be careful with carbs. I can only really indulge when I'm not training this hard unless I have a cheat day - and then I have to make up for it somewhere - _or_ , instead of regular pasta, a substitute like spaghetti squash is OK during training."  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony said again.  
  
"Why are you apologizing?" Geir kicked him under the table. "I'm not offended that you don't like pasta. I won't lie, it _is_ a little strange to hear someone say they dislike something that so many people do like, but also, there's nothing wrong with not liking it."  
  
"You still seem to be reacting," Anthony said, squirming in his seat.  
  
"It's more that I'm making a mental note, so the next time we go out to eat, or if we have you over to dinner at our flat, I know what not to feed you." Geir smiled. "Though... if talking about what you don't like to eat makes you uncomfortable, we can focus on the positives of what you do like to eat." Geir gave him a wicked grin. "Besides Sören."  
  
Anthony had taken a sip of green tea right then and he almost spat it. He started shaking with laughter, his sides hurting. It would have been funny anyway, but the flood of relief that Geir was being non-judgmental about this - and Geir sounded like he wanted to spend time with him again, that he was actually making a friend - made Anthony feel a sudden rush like he was high and he laughed harder than he would have.  
  
The touch of humor was also endearing to Anthony. Sören's sense of humor, especially the inappropriate kind, was one of the things Anthony loved the most about him, and it pleased Anthony that Geir had a good sense of humor too, he liked to be around people who could make him smile and laugh. Anthony remembered the joke Geir had made at Starbucks a couple of weeks ago about David Attenborough narrating when Sören and Craig had sex, like it was a wildlife documentary, and Anthony found himself chuckling at that now too, rather than it being another bitter reminder that things would never be what they once were with Sören, having Sören all to himself.  
  
And Geir was so _attractive_ when he smiled. Once again Anthony yelled at himself internally. _Bloody stop that._  
  
Anthony resumed working on his cup of green tea, sobering up a bit. "It would probably be easier for me to make an itemized list of likes and dislikes as far as food goes, and send it to you in e-mail," Anthony said, "if you won't mind that."  
  
"I won't," Geir said. "You don't have my e-mail address, do you?"  
  
"I don't," Anthony said.  
  
They traded e-mail addresses then - Anthony gave Geir his personal e-mail address, rather than the professional one he used, because he didn't like personal business on his work e-mail. He was also fairly restrictive with who he gave his personal e-mail address out to, and that, too, felt like a step in the right direction.  
  
As Anthony plugged Geir's e-mail address into his phone, his eyebrows went up at the username. "Your e-mail addy is Japanese - hoshi.no.hono."  
  
Geir nodded. "It means 'star fire'. It was a pet name my ex, Hiroshi, had for me because of my eyes."  
  
 _You have very pretty eyes,_ Anthony thought to himself, but didn't say it aloud. His face was on fire again. "So your Japanese ex... Hiroshi..."  
  
"I was nineteen when we got together," Geir said. "I'm twenty-five now. He was a dancer, like me. A little older. And though we were serious, we had a semi-open relationship. He had a side partner, a submissive, named Luca. Also a dancer... Croatian."  
  
Considering Anthony's own proclivities towards BDSM, he found that very interesting... and he didn't want to find that interesting at all. But as a dominant, Anthony sensed that Geir wasn't exactly submissive. Anthony had been able to figure Sören's submissive streak out rather quickly.  
  
Geir seemed to pick up on that. "So I have some experience with handling submissives, if you've been worried about Sören getting his needs met."  
  
That sort of statement would have angered Anthony just a few months ago, and there was still that prickle of jealousy, but Anthony also found himself relieved. Sub drop was a thing, and he'd had a feeling that one of the reasons why their breakup had turned out to be so hard on Sören was Sören's need to be dominated occasionally. Knowing that Geir was taking care of him - and doing a decent job of it - made Anthony feel just a little bit better, and Anthony found himself respecting Geir for that, as well.  
  
"What happened?" Anthony asked. "With Hiroshi, I mean. Not with Sören."  
  
"It just fizzled out. We were at two different places in our lives, and I was only nineteen when we got together, close to twenty-one when we broke up. It wasn't a bad breakup, we just needed to go our separate ways." Geir shrugged. "I haven't heard from him since then, but I heard he's in Copenhagen now, with the orchestra there."  
  
Anthony nodded. "What was it like, dating another musician?" He smirked. "I won't date other lawyers."  
  
"Yeah, I have a similar 'no musicians' policy now. Like I said there was no big blowout or anything but Hiroshi was a bit high-maintenance, a lot of musicians are, the violinist I dated certainly was. You sort of have to be an intense person, to be able to make the story of the songs come to life."  
  
Another thing that had impressed Anthony about Sören was his art. He hadn't known Sören was an artist when they first got together, though he'd found that out soon into the relationship - he remembered the way he'd felt seeing Sören's art for the first time, like he'd stepped into another world. Anthony liked creativity in people, and he supposed music was an art form as well. "I like the way you describe that," Anthony said.  
  
"It's why I got into playing the flute. Even when I was a child, music moved me deeply. I wanted to be able to express how I was feeling, what I was seeing. And when I got older, I understood it was important to share that with people. To bring beauty to the world... to give someone a connection to the stories, to awaken a world inside themselves."  
  
Anthony's hair stood on end, and his eyes misted a little. He could see now why Sören and Geir were good for each other, one artist to another. One fierce, fiery heart to another.  
  
Anthony liked Geir even more now. His face was burning. And he couldn't hide the truth from himself - before this meeting, he'd been happy for the chance to make a friend, he needed friends. But now he found himself hoping at least a little that maybe they could be more than that. He absolutely, 100% still loved Sören and wanted to be with him again, more than anything in the world. But Sören had other partners, and Sören had said more than once it was OK for him to have other partners too, so long as he knew about it. He now knew multiple people whose hearts were big enough for more than one person, and it seemed natural to him rather than forced - the sin he'd committed, and that his ex Paul had committed years ago, was dishonesty.  
  
And yet, he was reluctant to go down this road. Geir already had two partners, and a busy schedule with ballet. Sören's libido was insatiable enough for Nicholas, Geir, Karen, Craig, and eventually Anthony as well, but that was Sören. There were very few people like Sören Sigurðsson in the world. Even if Geir was open to becoming friends-with-benefits with a third person, Anthony wasn't sure that Geir would even want him. He felt the sting as he remembered what Geir had told him some weeks back. _I made up a name for you. Arsehole Ho-bag-Jerkface._  
  
The waiter arrived with Anthony's meal, and Geir went back to the sushi bar to load up another plate of sushi. The hibachi steak was delicious, with ginger dipping sauce, and courgettes, onion and mushrooms. Geir smiled at Anthony as he sat back down.  
  
"So now that I told you why I got into ballet..." Geir cocked his head to one side. "How did you get into law? If you don't mind me asking."  
  
"I don't," Anthony said. He told Geir the story of his war vet uncle, and his experience with being bullied and getting in trouble for defending himself... the way being othered made him want to fight for people on the margins of society. Geir listened intently, and at the end Geir raised his glass of sake.  
  
"That's really remarkable," Geir said. "I can see the fire in your eyes when you talk about what happened - I know it still haunts you, to this day. You have all this anger inside you and you channel it for a higher purpose. There are people in a similar position who did more destructive things with it, I'm sure you heard about Columbine in the States, and all the school shootings since then."  
  
"I have," Anthony said. "It makes me glad I live here."  
  
"Society likes to paint lawyers as dirty crooks. 'Kill all the lawyers.' But you flaunt that perception."  
  
"I try to," Anthony said. "I find my job extremely distasteful and shameful sometimes, with some of the people I've defended... but we live in a country where people get a fair trial. I do it so I can go on to defend the people who are worth defending." Then Anthony realized he was speaking of his job in the present tense, when he hadn't worked in months. "Were. Did. I..."  
  
"No, you were right the first time," Geir said. "You're just taking a break while you recover from the accident physically and mentally. You're still a barrister. Karen would tell you that herself."  
  
Anthony knew he was right, but he still worried that he'd never be able to return to Lincoln's Inn. He felt like the accident had broken something in him.  
  
Geir met his eyes. "I thought I'd never dance again after I broke my ankle."  
  
Oddly for a Japanese restaurant, there was pop music playing in the background - mostly "light" music, as if most people dining were on dates and the staff was trying to set a romantic ambiance - and as if on cue, "Careless Whisper" came on. Anthony facepalmed as he and Geir cracked up laughing. Geir sang along with the chorus: " _I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm..._ "  
  
"That's terrible," Anthony said. "Also, that song came out before you were born."  
  
"My mum grew up with it," Geir said.  
  
"Thanks, I'll be checking into the nursing home now." Anthony had only been five when the song came out, but he had vivid memories of listening to it in his childhood.  
  
Geir snickered. "You look a little younger than thirty-five. I would have thought you were late twenties if I didn't know your age."  
  
"You seem older than twenty-five," Anthony said, not knowing if Geir was trying to pay him a compliment or not, or if it was just an observation. Maybe the few strands of grey starting in his hair weren't that noticeable yet...  
  
Geir nodded. "I've heard that before." Geir laughed again. "Someone has to be the responsible adult in this family."  
  
That led into a conversation about what kind of music they liked. Anthony found himself lamenting that one of the ways the accident had changed his life was not going to see live bands anymore.  
  
"Maybe on a night we're both free we could go to a jazz night or a classical performance," Geir volunteered.  
  
Anthony was feeling positively giddy by the time they got back in the cab. Even though the restaurant was closer to where Geir lived in central London than Anthony's parents' home in Blackheath, Geir still wanted to go along for the ride, not minding the extra fare. "Karen told me the house is worth seeing," Geir said.  
  
Even though it was dark when the cab pulled up in front of the house, Geir still got a good look at it, impressed. "That's straight out of _Peter Pan_ ," he said.  
  
"My mum designed it," Anthony said, feeling proud of Elaine all over again, and then he felt like an idiot, remembering Karen had told him about the house. "Er, you probably already knew that."  
  
"As you know..."  
  
Anthony chuckled. He didn't know Nicholas terribly well yet, but he knew Nicholas enough to know that was one of his verbal tics. Geir patted him, an attempt at making him feel less like an idiot, but just that simple touch made Anthony tingle, face burning even hotter, his stomach doing flip-flops.  
  
That was when Anthony saw Elaine in the window. "There's Mum," Anthony said. "I better go in before she tries to adopt you. I mean, you can come in with me if you want, but..."  
  
"I'd have to call a cab all over again, or take the train, I don't want your mum driving me this late. There's always next time."  
  
Anthony could have danced, if he were capable of dancing. It wasn't a date, but it was still more social activity than he'd had in too long, and it felt good. "Thank you for coming with me today. And... you want to get together again?"  
  
"I do," Geir said. And then Geir reached out and hugged him.  
  
The feel of Geir's body against his made Anthony's cock stir in his jeans, and he got out of the cab as quickly as he could - not as quickly as he would have liked, moving as slowly as he did - but he didn't want to make the moment awkward by getting hard where Geir could feel it or see it. Anthony waved as he hobbled up to the house, and Elaine let him in. Now Elaine hugged him, which killed Anthony's half-erection.  
  
"Your friend didn't want to come in?" Elaine looked somewhat disappointed.  
  
"He's had a long day, Mum," Anthony said. "So have I."  
  
Elaine nodded. "I imagine the evaluation was emotionally taxing."  
  
"To say the least. It was like being on the other side of the witness stand." Anthony sighed.  
  
Elaine hugged him again and kissed his forehead. "It was good of your friend to go with you." She smiled and pinched his cheek. "It's good to see you making friends."  
  
"Yeah. Friends." Anthony smiled, and kicked himself internally again. _Friends. Don't be ruining this friendship and making it awkward for everyone else, hoping for more._


	16. One Of Us

After having to work late last Tuesday, Sören didn't just regret not being able to go with Anthony to his evaluation, but also really missed getting together with most of the others at Starbucks on Tuesdays, which had started to become a routine. It was such a little thing but Sören found himself looking forward to it a lot nonetheless, one of the bright spots in his hectic life.  
  
Sören was the first to arrive, taking "their usual" table in a corner by the glass windows, looking outside as he worked on his pumpkin spice latte. Now it was early October, the sixth to be precise, and it felt even more like fall, and the drink was even cozier than it was before. Sören had stopped home after work rather than going straight to the cafe, so he could wash up and change. It wasn't quite sweater weather yet, or at least not to Sören who produced a lot of body heat, but it was time to start wearing a jacket - his leather bomber was draped on the back of the chair, and he wore a red plaid flannel shirt open over a black T-shirt, with faded jeans.  
  
But before Sören had stopped at home from work to wash and change, he'd taken a detour to a locksmith. Now he reached in his jeans pocket to grab his phone and check the time - he'd wanted to arrive early but not too early - and after he took his phone, he reached back into his pocket and felt for the key fob, to make sure he'd remembered it. It wasn't his own key - that was on a set of keys in the opposite pocket, on a keyring with keys to a supply closet and his storage locker at the National, as well as the key to Karen and Geir's flat.  
  
After the usual Sunday dinner, Karen, Geir and Craig stayed late to watch a movie with Sören and Nicholas, and the topic of Anthony had come up, remarking on how well he seemed to be settling in with the group. Well enough that Karen and Geir told Sören and Nicholas they were planning on giving Anthony "key privileges" to their flat, much as Sören and Nicholas had. Sören and Nicholas looked at each other then and Nicholas decided Anthony could have the same, so Sören had been to the locksmith today to reproduce a copy of his key. Even though it felt right, and Sören was excited about giving it to him, Sören also felt a little nervous about it. This was definitely a turning point. Sören still wasn't ready to take Anthony back as a partner - he still needed to stick to his timeline, even though it was an excruciating wait - but this was a strong sign they were on the right track.  
  
Ben and Pierre were walking into the cafe now. Sören waved and they waved back, and Sören watched as they got in line. As they got up to the counter, then Geir and Karen arrived. The wind was starting to kick up outside and it had blown Karen's hair around. Karen's cheeks were flushed and she was laughing at something, and Sören couldn't help grinning at her like an idiot, thinking she looked beautiful. Karen blew him a kiss across the cafe and Sören caught it.  
  
Ben and Pierre noticed that Karen and Geir were there, and Pierre quickly turned around. "What do you guys want? You can sit down and we'll order for you," Pierre said.  
  
Karen and Geir gave him their drink orders and left the queue. Karen sat next to Sören as usual, and Geir left one seat on the other side of Sören but took the seat right next to it, which meant Geir would be sitting next to Anthony when he came. Sören liked that, not just because he liked having Anthony sit next to him, but he also liked Geir's willingness to show Anthony he was welcome.  
  
"Hey," Sören said when they were seated. Karen kissed the tip of his nose and then booped his nose. Sören bit his lower lip, smiling.  
  
"How was work?" Geir asked.  
  
Sören made noises. "I was in surgery for eight hours. Now my own brain needs a reset." Sören sipped his coffee. "How about you guys? How was your day?"  
  
"I had a customer try to argue with me that a figurine was damaged because she didn't understand that was the natural pattern of the texture," Karen said with an eyeroll. "She wanted me to give her a discount because of the 'damage' and when I wouldn't, she asked to speak to the manager."  
  
"Oh god." Sören felt for her; he'd hated working retail when he was young, before he was done with school. He gave Karen a little hug and some pets, smoothing her hair. "I hope you're not in trouble."  
  
"No," Karen said. "The manager told her the same thing I did. She went away without buying it."  
  
"I'm so glad I don't have to deal with customers," Geir said, making a face. Then he grinned. "Just uppity musicians."  
  
Sören snorted. "Is it really that bad?"  
  
"Let's just say a lot of people who are into performing and curating classical music are very... elitist, and a bit stuck on themselves. People who think they're deep but are about as deep as the Kardashians outside their music. It's why I won't date other musicians - my ex Hiroshi wasn't even as bad as some of the ones I've met, but he was still a lot. And it's why you don't see me bringing home friends I've made in the orchestra - I don't really have any."  
  
Sören had always assumed it was due to not wanting to mix personal and professional life - it was why even though Sören was fond of some of his colleagues, he didn't get together with them socially outside of work. Sören knew that Geir had dated a violinistfor a brief while and that hadn't worked out, further illustrating the dangers of blurring the boundaries of personal and professional. But now, knowing that orchestra culture was a bit narcissistic... "You seem to have avoided that," Sören said. "Being elitist and superficial, I mean." Sören didn't think he was capable of having a partner long-term who was - he'd fucked some superficial people back when he used to be more promiscuous, but that was just sex. Even when he'd lashed out at Anthony the day they broke up and called him a "shallow, superficial fuck", he hadn't really meant it. Sören believed it _did_ apply, in spades, to Anthony's former friends, but not to Anthony himself. Seeing Anthony try to "dumb down" to associate with those people had been a tragedy.  
  
"I hope so," Geir said.  
  
Ben and Pierre sat down now, after giving Geir and Karen their drinks. Ben sat on the other side of Karen, while Pierre sat down on the other side of Geir. Pierre passed Ben a straw - Ben was getting an iced coffee in this weather - and Sören smiled as their fingers touched and they smiled at each other. Sören was a bit of a hopeless romantic, and he hoped Ben and Pierre stayed happy.  
  
"And how was _your_ day?" Sören asked them.  
  
"It was all right," Ben said. "The theatre part, anyway. We really need to get our own place." Ben and Pierre were staying in a rooming house with other people.  
  
"Is there any chance we can borrow either of your washing machines and dryers tomorrow?" Pierre asked, glancing from Karen to Sören.  
  
"Yeah, you can come by," Sören said. "Hell, you don't even have to wait till tomorrow, I'm sure Nick won't mind if you stop over tonight."  
  
"Thanks," Ben said. "We'll do it tomorrow just on the odd chance that Matt gets his fucking clothes out of the dryer. The last time they just sat in there and I took them out, he threw a fit. Nobody else wants to address it with him, and it's an ongoing problem."  
  
Sören made a face. He hadn't liked sharing the laundry room when he was renting a studio in Holborn, and he didn't like going to the laundromat. He sympathized, grateful that Nicholas had his own washer and dryer in the flat. "That sounds like a nightmare."  
  
"No, the nightmare is when other people eat our food that we've clearly labeled as ours, or they rearrange the fridge and freezer so we can't find things," Pierre said.  
  
"God." Karen's eyes widened. "That's terrible. Well... if you need help finding a place..."  
  
"We can't afford your neighborhood or we'd already be there," Ben said.  
  
"Right." Karen frowned. "But maybe there might be something else in central London..."  
  
"We'd really need either a studio, which is getting harder to come by, or a third person to live with us," Ben said. "And before you suggest Craig, please don't."  
  
Karen opened her mouth, and closed it.  
  
Sören shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Though there was arguably less tension between Ben and Craig than there had been a few months ago, it was still uncomfortable to feel like he was in the middle between one of his friends, and his pet. Sören sipped his coffee before he could say anything, knowing that anything would just make it worse, like pouring salt on a wound. Then his attention was directed back to the window as he heard Anthony's voice outside.  
  
"Bye, Mum," Anthony said, standing outside Elaine's car door, leaning on his cane.  
  
"Bye. If you need anything, you just call me and let me know, OK?" came Elaine's voice.  
  
"Mum. _Mother._ I'm just going for coffee. I don't think I'll _need_ anything." Anthony had a pained look on his face.  
  
Sören tried not to laugh - it was funny but it also wasn't funny at the same time - and Sören gave Anthony a sympathetic look as Anthony hobbled into the cafe. He was wearing a navy blue cashmere sweater and lighter blue jeans, though not as blue as Sören's, and his cheeks were pink from the wind outside... and likely also from the embarrassment of his mother fretting over him. Sören loved Elaine, but he really did feel for Anthony, knowing that if he were in the same position he'd be exasperated with Elaine's smothering. For that reason, Sören fought the urge to offer to wait in the queue for Anthony and have Anthony sit down - he didn't want to be seen as smothering either, knowing there were things Anthony needed to do for himself for the sake of what was left of his pride. The time to wait on Anthony was when Sören got a refill and offered Anthony one too, so it didn't look like he was going out of his way.  
  
Anthony waited around at the end of the counter for his drink, pacing a little on his cane - Sören knew it was harder for him to stand in one spot than move around - and Sören found himself looking at Anthony's ass. Admiring the rest of him appreciatively - his profile - but his eyes kept going back to Anthony's ass. Anthony was still one of the hottest men in the world to him, and Sören wished he could assure Anthony of that without it playing with the sort of fire that would get them back into bed before the year of rebuilding trust was over. Sören thought about what that ass looked like out of those jeans... what it felt like. Sören's cock stirred, and Sören tried to push that thought away, not wanting to get worked up here and now.  
  
Anthony sat down with his drink between Sören and Geir. "Hi," Sören said, putting his head on Anthony's shoulder for a moment. Anthony affectionately tousled Sören's curls, and their eyes held for a moment before they pulled back and Anthony began to work on his drink.  
  
"How was physical therapy today?" Karen asked.  
  
Anthony nodded. "They started me on a longer time for the stair machine. I don't like it, it's exhausting, but it's also good that I have a bit more endurance."  
  
"It is!" Sören patted him. "It's progress."  
  
"I still hate stairs." Anthony made a face. "Though, my physical therapist is suggesting I move my room back up to my old room on the second floor, so I can have some daily practice, keep building strength. I'm thinking about it but if I do that, my mum will never leave me alone."  
  
"I, ah. Heard her fussing over you outside," Sören said. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Me too." Anthony smiled wryly. "I love my mum, but..."  
  
"It's normal for parents to worry," Karen said, "but also understandable that it feels like she's infantilizing you."  
  
"Exactly," Anthony said. "She was always a bit..." Anthony made a vague hand gesture. "I suppose the term for it is 'helicopter parent'. She was like this to a point before the accident, but it's like the accident put those tendencies on steroids. I left home as soon as I could, just to be able to breathe, and I don't want to sound ungrateful to my mum for her support, and all she's done for me, but living at home again is reminding me of why I left."  
  
The gears were turning in Sören's brain. Although it was good Anthony had his parents supporting him - after the trauma of the accident, compounded by the trauma of the breakup, Anthony needed that - but it also seemed that Anthony had hit the point in his recovery where living with his parents was more of a hindrance than a help. Anthony needed not just to rebuild his physical strength, but also gain back his confidence, and being infantilized by Elaine wasn't really conducive to that.  
  
Sören looked over at Ben and Pierre, remembering what had been said that they either needed to get a studio, or be able to find a third person to live with them. Sören wondered if they'd entertain the idea of Anthony living with them. He made a mental note to ask them about it later.  
  
"It sounds like you need to get out more," Pierre said. "Not just to appointments, but out of the house. Both to remind her that you're an adult and the world won't go to pieces if you're out doing things, and also so she's not up your behind constantly."  
  
Anthony chuckled. "I still get nervous about going places by myself." Anthony looked at Ben. "I know you said this doesn't matter..." Anthony gestured to his cane. "And that decent people aren't going to care, but it's hard to get that through my brain. And there are unfortunately a lot of indecent people out there."  
  
"Well, who said anything about by yourself?" Pierre asked. "I'm sure if one or more of us is available, you could call us and ask to do something."  
  
Karen nodded vehemently. "We could go to Greenleaf again. Or see a movie."  
  
Pierre glanced across the table at Ben, as if they were communicating telepathically, and Ben nodded, and Pierre looked back at Anthony. "I'm playing rugby, and you're invited to come to a match. I'm not asking you to play if you're not up for that, but you could just watch if you wanted to..."  
  
"Er." Anthony swallowed hard looking a little uncomfortable. "I don't... do sports. I was born without the sports gene."  
  
"Me too," Sören said. "I'd rather watch paint dry. No offense, Pierre."  
  
"None taken," Pierre said.  
  
"Sören _doesn't_ want to watch sweaty guys? Wow," Ben teased.  
  
"I'd rather watch them in other contexts. Like ballet. Plus you can see more of their bodies. Right, Geir? I suspect that's why you joined the orchestra." Sören leered at Geir, who snickered into his coffee.  
  
Ben cackled. "So on the one hand there's Nicholas, a man of culture and taste, attending ballet because he appreciates the arts... and then his partner Sören, who goes to look at hot guys."  
  
"Exactly!" Sören said, grinning.  
  
Anthony facepalmed, chuckling. "God, Sören, you're terrible."  
  
" _Takk_ ," Sören said.  
  
Then Ben's face registered alarm. "Oh shit. Rugby. We really _can't_ wait until tomorrow to see if Matt gets his clothes out of the dryer or not, you have practice tomorrow and I think we're out of socks."  
  
" _Merde_ ," Pierre said.  
  
"It's OK." Sören took out his phone and hit Nicholas's number on speed dial. When Nicholas answered, Sören said, "Hi, _elskan!_ Quick question: Ben and Pierre need to do laundry. Can they come over tonight?"  
  
"Certainly," Nicholas said. "Actually, tell them they're invited to dinner as well. That goes for everyone else. There should be enough beef bourguignon for everyone."  
  
Sören held the phone away. "If you don't mind beef bourguignon, you're invited to dinner. All of you."  
  
"Oh, excellent," Ben said. "Now I don't have to worry about trying to find wherever they misplaced our food tonight, or having to do a shit-ton of dishes that people keep dirtying right after I wash them."  
  
Sören cringed, once again feeling bad for Ben and Pierre in their living situation. If he didn't think that Ben and Pierre might feel crowded, he would have talked to Nicholas about letting them stay in the guest bedroom while they worked on finding a place.  
  
"Tell Nicholas I said _merci pour l'offre de dîner, c'est très apprécié_ ," Pierre said.  
  
Sören brought the phone back up. "Ben and Pierre say yes, and Pierre says, uh, _merci_ and a bunch of sexy-sounding French words."  
  
Pierre threw his head back, laughing hard. He winked at Sören across the table, and Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, his face on fire, having just blurted those words out with no brain-to-mouth filter, but he couldn't help finding the sound of French to be sexy. Pierre himself was pretty sexy, but he didn't want to rock the boat.  
  
"We'll come too," Geir said, and Karen nodded.  
  
"All right," Anthony said. "You got me. I'll have to tell Mum I'll be back late." He rolled his eyes.  
  
Sören told Nicholas, "The others will come along. I suppose we should also invite Craig?"  
  
"I'll call Craig and let him know," Nicholas said. "I'll see you all in awhile, then."  
  
"You will. Thank you, again for that," Sören said, feeling warm fuzzies at his partner's kindness.  
  
When Sören ended the call, Ben said, "We'll have to stop home first and get our laundry."  
  
"Bah, I hate thinking of that place as 'home'," Pierre said.  
  
"You really need to get out of there," Sören said. "But in the meantime, I hope having dinner at our place helps."  
  
"I should call my mum." Anthony sighed as he took his phone out of his pocket.  
  
Since Anthony was right next to him, Sören could easily hear Elaine's voice when she answered right away with "Is everything all right, dear?"  
  
"Yes," Anthony said, rolling his eyes again, and mouthed the word " _God_ ," not saying it aloud. Sören tried not to laugh, feeling a bit guilty for finding it funny. "I'm just letting you know I'm having dinner with Sören and Nicholas."  
  
"Oh _good!_ Shall I pick you up there when you're ready?"  
  
"If you don't mind, though if it gets late I don't mind taking a cab back, I don't want you to have to drive out when you should be in bed..."  
  
"I don't mind driving you, dear. We've discussed this. I feel safer than with you taking a cab driven by a random stranger..."  
  
"Of course you do," Anthony muttered.  
  
Sören finished his pumpkin spice latte, trying even harder not to laugh. Pierre's facial expression of equal parts amusement and confoundedness didn't help - everyone at the table could probably hear Elaine on the other end, even as other people around the cafe were talking and Sören could hear the coffee machines running in the back. Geir gave Anthony a sympathetic look, and Anthony sighed.  
  
"I'll call you when I need a ride back, OK?" Anthony said.  
  
"All right. Please tell Nicholas I said hello."  
  
"I will. Bye."  
  
Anthony made noises when he hung up. Geir patted him.  
  
  
_  
  
  
After another round of drinks, Ben checked the time. "We should think about grabbing our laundry and heading over."  
  
When Ben and Pierre headed out, Sören turned to Anthony. "Do you want me to call a cab and we can ride together to my flat?"  
  
"It's only farther than the distance from my parents' house to Greenleaf by a few blocks," Anthony said. "I think I can walk it."  
  
Sören gave Anthony a stern look. He didn't want to smother Anthony like Elaine did, but he also didn't want Anthony to overextend himself precisely to try to prove he was capable of doing things and get hurt. "Not to be rude, but are you absolutely sure?"  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"OK. Promise me that if you can't handle it, you'll tell me instead of trying to be macho about it, even if we're really close to the building."  
  
Anthony gave Sören a stern look in return. "I promise."  
  
Sören, Anthony, Geir and Karen made the walk from Starbucks, a few streets over to the brick building where Sören and Nicholas lived together. They went slowly, so Anthony didn't have to push himself too hard to keep up, but also because the sun was starting to set and Sören liked watching the sunset. Of course, seeing the sunset put Sören in a romantic mood, and Sören fought the urge to put an arm around Anthony and give him a kiss. They couldn't yet.  
  
The lift gave Sören claustrophobia when it was just him and Nicholas, or by himself - even though he tried to avoid taking the lift by himself if he could - but with four people it felt positively stifling. Sören tried to keep calm, not wanting to have a panic attack and cause a scene, but Anthony noticed him tensing, and now Anthony put an arm around Sören. Sören leaned on Anthony, resting a head on his shoulder, and the urge to kiss him got even stronger. Sören looked up and their eyes met as the lift approached the right floor, and it was one of the longest moments of Sören's life, Anthony's body so close, feeling his breath, smelling his cologne, aching for him.  
  
The bells chimed and the elevator doors opened. Nicholas opened the door when they were a few pace away, and Sören breathed in the wonderful scent of beef bourguignon... the smell of being welcomed home, to his safe place, his refuge. Then Sören breathed in the scent of Nicholas himself, clean and masculine. Nicholas pulled Sören into his arms and kissed his cheek, smiling. "Hello, sweetheart," he said.  
  
Sören found himself grabbing Nicholas and kissing him passionately, all of that pent up urge to kiss Anthony, combined with the surge of affection for Nicholas's kind hospitality, the gratitude of having a home with him, having a cozy nest. Nicholas groaned into the kiss and before it could get too heated, the older man looked out the corner of his eye at their guests and cleared his throat, pulling back, breathing a little harder cheeks flushed. Sören bit back a grin, enjoying the effect he had on his partner.  
  
"Welcome," Nicholas said. "Do sit down. Dinner will be ready in about a half-hour..."  
  
Craig was already there, sitting on the couch with Tobias on his lap. He waved, and Sören sat next to him. Now Craig got a kiss, and Tobias walked from Craig's lap to Sören's. Sören focused on the cat, not wanting to get too worked up right now. "Hi Toby," he cooed. "Hello. Hello, sweet kitty. Sweet little Toby."  
  
Nicholas narrowed his eyes and Sören could hear the unvoiced _His name is Tobias._ Now Nicholas sat on the other side of Sören, while Karen took the armchair, and Anthony sat on another one of the couches... Geir next to him.  
  
Nicholas and Craig had been playing chess, which pleased Sören - Sören didn't know Craig played, and Sören thought it was nice to see Nicholas and Craig being friendly. _He needs friends too._ Sören really felt for Craig, knowing he felt like a bit of a third wheel with Karen and Geir, and things were still so awkward with Ben, who had been Craig's best friend. The game resumed as dinner simmered on the stove, though Sören could tell Nicholas was a few moves away from beating Craig.  
  
"I haven't played chess in ages," Anthony said.  
  
"If you'd like to brush up on your skills, you're welcome to a match sometime," Nicholas said. "In fact, if you'd like to come over on an evening when Sören is at work, the company would be appreciated."  
  
Anthony's eyebrows shot up; Sören knew he hadn't been expecting that, even though Nicholas had been warming to him enough to invite him over for Sunday dinner, and tonight to a spur-of-the-moment get-together. Sören wondered how Anthony was going to react to being given a key, and he felt a little nervous, realizing Anthony might see it as "just being nice to him" rather than a genuine token of friendship.  
  
"Oh! Thank you," Anthony said. "I imagine you might get bored quickly, though, considering how out of practice I am."  
  
"You're probably not as bad at it as you think you are," Nicholas said. "You _are_ a barrister, after all, you have a strategic mind." With that, Nicholas moved his knight and turned his head to smile at Craig. "Check."  
  
Craig took the only move he could, which left his queen vulnerable. He grimaced at the board.  
  
Nicholas took Craig's queen and once again... "Check."  
  
Craig sighed. The only move he could take to put himself out of check, was going to be the last one, and he seemed to know it. As soon as he did Nicholas moved his own queen forward. "Mate," Nicholas said.  
  
Craig groaned loudly. "I suck at this." Craig glanced at Anthony. "Don't feel too self-conscious about your skills, he puts up with playing chess with _me_ , after all."  
  
"You're also not as bad as you think you are, either," Nicholas said, in such a way that suggested he wasn't strictly talking about chess now. "It took more moves to beat you this time. You're learning."  
  
"Where did you learn to play chess, anyway?" Sören asked.  
  
"Oh, in my support group we were talking about things we do when we have anxiety... which is when a lot of us want a fix, myself included," Craig said, "and a couple people said they play games to distract themselves. So I started playing solitaire and chess and Tetris on my computer."  
  
"That's a good coping strategy," Sören said. "I like Tetris, though I haven't played in a long time. No time."  
  
"You seem like you'd be good at Tetris," Craig said, "since you perform surgery. I know Tetris isn't surgery but it involves knowing how to think fast and where to put pieces."  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm not good at Jenga, though." Sören grinned. The last time he'd tried to play Jenga was when he lived in Reykjavik, and he always seemed to be the one to make the block tower crash.  
  
Anthony chuckled. "Jenga," he said, pronouncing it with a hard j. "Not Yenga. Though, it's cute when you call it Yenga."  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow, and Anthony grinned. Anthony's face lit up when he smiled like that, and Sören smiled back, heart beating a little faster. Then Anthony shifted in his seat and propped up his left leg on an ottoman. "I, ah... I do Duolingo when I have anxiety. Which is a lot. It's sort of like a game, the developers set it up that way on purpose to make learning more fun."  
  
"What is that?" Craig asked, looking confused.  
  
"Duolingo? It's a free program for learning different languages," Anthony said. "There's a lot to choose from, though unfortunately they don't have certain languages... like no Icelandic. I'd really like to learn Icelandic."  
  
"If you're serious about that," Sören said, "I can e-mail you some links to resources. The Icelandic government has a course."  
  
Anthony's face lit up even more, like Christmas had come early, so boyish that Sören had to laugh. "Really?"  
  
Sören nodded solemnly. "It'll probably be a bit of a challenge - I know you speak other Nordic languages and that'll help, but my language has more in common with Old Norse than it does with Norwegian and Swedish."  
  
"You know," Anthony said, "if I take Icelandic, you should learn French... since you love it so much."  
  
"I don't have a lot of time. I barely have time to do my art."  
  
"Ten minutes per day for a lesson isn't achievable?"  
  
That didn't sound so bad. Sören considered, stroking his beard.  
  
"As you know, language fluency requires more practice than that, but for beginning, it's better than nothing," Nicholas said. "And you do have a few people you can practice with."  
  
"I'll think about it," Sören said, though he wasn't opposed to the idea - he simply didn't want to overcommit and then get angry with himself if he had too much going on.  
  
When dinner was ready, Sören followed Nicholas into the kitchen to help him serve the guests. The stew was being accompanied by a fresh loaf of French bread. Nicholas looked outside and Sören knew he was thinking about having dinner on the rooftop in the garden, but then Nicholas glanced over at Anthony and Sören knew he didn't want to make Anthony climb stairs.  
  
Sören put a hand on Nicholas's arm. "Anthony, are you up for climbing steps to the rooftop garden?"  
  
Anthony hesitated, and then he asked, "How many?"  
  
"Twelve steps," Nicholas said. "It's not steep."  
  
"I can do that," Anthony said.  
  
"All right." Nicholas nodded. "I'll get things ready up in the garden, and then we'll wait for Pierre and Ben -"  
  
As if they had been summoned, there was a knock on the door. Sören rushed over to open it, and Pierre and Ben walked in, carrying laundry bags.  
  
"Ho, ho, ho," Ben said in a deep voice that Sören knew was an imitation of Nicholas's basso. "Merry Christmas."  
  
Nicholas and Sören brought dishes of food up to the garden and lit the fairy lights and lanterns. Sören came down to let everyone know they were welcome to come up. He worried a little about Anthony, and Nicholas seemed to pick up on that worry, putting an arm around Sören once he was back in the garden. But Anthony was fine - a little out of breath, but he'd mde it up the steps. His breath caught as he looked around at the potted plants and the lights.  
  
"You should see it in spring and summer," Nicholas said. "Perhaps you could even assist me up here in the garden when you have some free time from work."  
  
Nicholas was speaking as if it was a given that Anthony would return to work, which Sören thought was good - encouraging him without being overbearing - though Sören also didn't want Anthony to rush and go back before he was ready, and he didn't want Anthony to think he would be judged if he _couldn't_ return. Sören patted Anthony as he sat down.  
  
Nicholas had on classical music as they ate - Debussy, Sören guessed - and his guess was confirmed as Anthony recognized it and they began to talk about different composers. Sören was reminded of Anthony playing the piano, and the way Elaine had told him once that Anthony was self-taught and could play by ear. He wondered if there was a parallel universe where Anthony was a virtuoso, and that thought tickled him. But then, he had a feeling that Anthony was probably more or less consistent, and if he wasn't a barrister, he'd go into the service like his late uncle; Sören also remembered their trip to Sweden when Anthony said he probably would have gone into archaeology if he hadn't gone into law.  
  
That trip felt like ages ago now. And as Sören looked up at the night sky - only a few stars with all the light pollution of London - he found himself thinking about stargazing in Dartmoor with Nicholas last month... and the dark skies of northern Iceland. He hadn't been back to Iceland since he'd been raped in 2010, and there was still a reluctance about going, but less so than before. He wondered if he'd ever see the Northern Lights again... and if he'd see them with Anthony. His mind's eye entertained him with a vision of Anthony playing on a keyboard under the aurora, and Geir dancing to the music.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts," Anthony said, bringing Sören back to the conversation.  
  
"Oh, I was just thinking..." Sören waved his fork around like a conductor's wand. "You should play for us sometime. I've heard you play piano, but nobody else here has."  
  
Anthony looked down, and Sören knew he was feeling shy. Sören gave him a playful nudge. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think you were any good."  
  
"I'd like to hear it," Geir said, and Karen nodded.  
  
"I was amazed when Sören told me you play piano," Karen said. "That was very different from the mental image I had of you."  
  
"You... told her..." Anthony raised an eyebrow.  
  
"A song came on that reminded me of you, one day," Sören said.  
  
"I bet a lot of things are different from the mental image you had of him," Geir said to Karen with a wicked look that let Sören know exactly what he was talking about - that Karen, like Geir, had seen _those_ pictures. Sören snorted into his wine, and Anthony's face turned pink. Karen gave them an innocent look that wasn't innocent at all.  
  
Anthony caught it right away and made noises. "You too?"  
  
"What now?" Ben gave them a bemused look.  
  
"Oh... some paintings I made," Sören said nonchalantly.  
  
Pierre started shaking with silent laughter - Sören imagined that, being French, Pierre figured it out right away, though Pierre hadn't seen them. Ben still looked confused, and now Sören couldn't help laughing too, though he felt sort of bad for Anthony, blushing fiercely.  
  
"I'd also like to hear you play," Nicholas said, bringing the conversation back around to something a little less embarrassing. "If you're comfortable with it, that is. None of us want you to feel pressured or forced into it."  
  
Anthony nodded. "You'll have to forgive me for being a bit nervous about it."  
  
"Oh, it's understandable," Ben said. "I sing for a living and I told you I get nerves every time before I go out on stage. It's normal to have performance anxiety, I think. But like Nicholas said, only when you feel ready... and only if you want to. None of us will be upset if you don't."  
  
"We're just trying to be encouraging," Karen added, "and showing you that we care about things that are important and meaningful to you, and you can be yourself around us."  
  
Anthony looked like he was going to cry. He smiled and raised his glass of wine.  
  
When the meal was over, Ben and Pierre offered to do dishes, since Nicholas was letting them use the washer and dryer, and Nicholas waved it off. But then Craig said, "I'll do it. I insist."  
  
Sören decided to help dry or put things in the dishwasher, both to be helpful himself, but also to be near Craig, who glanced over every so often, smiling. As they worked on the dishes Nicholas tried to find something on television that everyone could agree on, and with everyone occupied Sören stole a kiss.  
  
"You're a good boy," Sören whispered, and nuzzled Craig's neck. He looked over at Ben and Pierre, knowing how uncomfortable it probably was for Craig to be around Ben, yet even more uncomfortable to be eating dinner alone. Sören felt bad enough that Craig was left out of Starbucks. Sören stroked his cheek. "You want to come by on my lunch break tomorrow? One o'clock?"  
  
Craig nodded, and gave Sören a hug.  
  
Sören was tempted to drag him off to the bathroom and give him a blowjob, but he knew everyone would probably figure out why they were both gone for awhile, so he didn't. When the dishes were done Sören and Craig returned to the living room, and now Sören sat between Nicholas and Anthony, with Craig sitting on the other side of Geir on another couch, where Anthony had been sitting before.  
  
They were in time to watch the last few minutes of a program that Sören didn't care about, but Nicholas had it on that channel for what was coming on next. When Sören saw it was a David Attenborough documentary, he tried not to laugh, thinking of Geir's joke at Starbucks last month, but within a few minutes, Geir gave Sören a wicked grin and Sören lost it, having a full gigglefit.  
  
"What?" Nicholas gave Sören a look. "Did I miss something?"  
  
Craig also gave Sören a confused look.  
  
Sören laughed harder. Then a little while later, when Sören had finally calmed down, the documentary showed tortoises mating, complete with extremely loud noises, and now Sören was doubled over, tears in his eyes, wheezing so hard he needed his inhaler. Ben made a noise of irritation - Sören was sure that Ben didn't like thinking about Craig any more than he had to, especially not Craig's sex life - but the noise sounded so much like the mating tortoises that Ben looked mortified and now Karen and Geir and Anthony were also losing it.  
  
"Don't worry," Pierre said, "he doesn't sound like that when we -"  
  
"YES, THANK YOU FOR THAT NEWS BROADCAST," Ben said.  
  
Pierre smirked.  
  
"That just means you need to try harder," Sören said without thinking about it. Pierre had a look of shock on his face, then Pierre laughed too, shaking his head.  
  
"I'm still missing some context here, clearly," Nicholas said.  
  
"Oh I said David Attenborough should narrate when Sören and Craig..." Geir's voice trailed off.  
  
Craig turned beetroot and then he picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at Geir. Geir picked up the pillow and threw it back at Craig, and soon it turned into a full-scale pillow war with Karen assisting Craig and Pierre assisting Geir. Ben accidentally got hit with a pillow and he threw it at Craig but Craig dodged and the pillow hit Anthony instead. Sören thought Anthony was going to get Ben but instead Anthony threw the pillow at Craig.  
  
"What was that for?" Craig asked.  
  
"You dodged," Anthony said.  
  
Nicholas let the shenanigans continue for a few minutes before he cleared his throat. "I'll thank you not to destroy my pillows unless you want to replace them," Nicholas said.  
  
Everyone behaved themselves... except Sören, who threw a pillow at Nicholas, feeling impish. Nicholas gave him a look.  
  
"Come on," Sören said. "You're not gonna fight me?"  
  
"No, I shan't," Nicholas said.  
  
The word _shan't_ set Karen and Geir off again, laughing like it was the funniest thing ever, and then Geir informed Sören, "As you know, you're a rapscallion."  
  
"I thought he was a rakehell," Karen said.  
  
Sören stuck his tongue out at Nicholas. "Party pooper."  
  
But then a few minutes later, Nicholas leaned in and whispered in Sören's ear, "I'd rather deal with your brattiness more privately, later."  
  
A shiver went down Sören's spine. He knew _exactly_ what that meant, and he couldn't wait.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The evening wound down. Anthony kept looking at the clock, and Sören knew he was getting antsy about the time. Eventually Anthony said, "I had better get going, since my mum is driving me back and I don't want her to have to come out too late."  
  
"All right," Nicholas said. "It was a pleasure having you, Anthony."  
  
"Thank you. Not just for dinner, but for... making me feel welcome." Anthony smiled.  
  
Nicholas smiled back. "I'd like us to be friends."  
  
"I'd like that too."  
  
Sören gave them each a hug, happy to hear it, and then Anthony called Elaine, with lots of eyerolling as Elaine once again wanted to make sure he was all right. When the call ended, Sören looked at Karen and Geir, who nodded.  
  
"I know it'll be awhile before your mum gets here, when you're ready to go outside we'll wait with you, before heading home ourselves," Karen said. "But first... we have something to give you."  
  
"And by 'we' that includes me," Sören said.  
  
Anthony's eyebrows went up. "Oh!"  
  
Karen handed Anthony a key, and then Sören also produced the key fob from his pocket. Anthony's brow furrowed and he looked back up at them, confused.  
  
"This is the key to our flat," Karen said.  
  
"And this is the key to ours," Sören said.  
  
Anthony gave Nicholas an incredulous look. "And you're OK with that?"  
  
"It would have been inconsiderate, to say the least, if Sören had not asked first, so yes, Anthony, I am fine with that," Nicholas said.  
  
Anthony accepted the keys gingerly, as if they were some sort of prized artifact. He stared at the keys for a moment in disbelief, then looked back up at Sören, Karen and Geir. "I don't know what to say," Anthony said. "Other than thank you. This..."  
  
"You're one of us now," Sören said.  
  
"For better or worse," Geir said.  
  
Anthony chuckled. Then Sören grabbed him and gave him a tight hug, hoping Anthony would feel the acceptance, the caring. Geir and Karen joined in, making it a group hug.  
  
Nicholas made hot chocolate, and as Anthony had "one for the road" he looked like he was going to cry. "It means a lot," Anthony said, examining the keys again.  
  
"You mean a lot to us," Sören said. _And especially to me._ Sören felt like he would die if he lost Anthony again.  
  
Pierre got up to check the time on the dryer, and then after that Anthony, Geir, Karen and Craig finally went down so Anthony could wait for Elaine. Sören gave him one last big hug before he left, and when Anthony disappeared into the lift, Sören felt like he could cry now too. Nicholas put a hand on Sören's shoulder as Sören lingered outside the door, even though the lift was gone.  
  
"That's a real turning point," Ben said as Sören and Nicholas sat back down.  
  
"It is," Sören said. "It just... feels right."  
  
"The dryer will be done in about twenty minutes and then we need to go too," Pierre said with a small frown. "Hopefully when we get our own place we can return the hospitality and have you all over for dinner."  
  
Sören nodded. He decided that was the entrance he needed to what had been weighing on his mind since Starbucks. "So about that..."  
  
Pierre's eyebrows went up and Ben tilted his head.  
  
Sören cleared his throat, feeling a touch of nervousness, hoping he wouldn't come off as meddlesome or pushy. "You mentioned in Starbucks that to get your own place you either needed a studio or a roommate. What do you think about the possibility of Anthony as your roommate?"  
  
Ben and Pierre looked at each other, and then back at Sören. "Is this something he talked to you about, or are you just asking?" Ben asked.  
  
"Oh, I'm just asking. I haven't said anything about it to him. But _as you know,_ " Sören's voice lowered a few octaves before going back to its normal pitch. "Anthony's mum is kind of... a lot. She is a very, very, very nice woman, I would have much rather have been raised by her than by my aunt and uncle, but... and I cannot emphasize this enough... she is smothering him to death. The thing with Anthony is, he has a lot of pride. While I told him one of the terms and conditions for us getting back together eventually is that he needs to cut the macho shit, there's a difference between that stoic toxic masculinity bullshit and a healthy sense of pride. I feel like Anthony's pride has already taken enough of a hit, and Elaine means well, she's not doing this maliciously, but she's suffocating him and I really think his mental health would be better if he moved out. But I also don't think he's ready to live on his own yet, not just because of his mobility issues, but he still struggles with depression and he should, you know. Not be alone, should have supportive people around." Sören took a few deep breaths - that was a mouthful, and it would have been easier for him in his native language, but of course nobody here spoke Icelandic.  
  
There was a long pause, and then Ben shifted in his seat and Sören knew before he even said anything that the answer was going to be no. Ben and Pierre looked at each other again and Pierre gave Ben a subtle "go ahead" gesture.  
  
"So here's the thing," Ben said.  
  
 _Yes, that's definitely a no._ Sören felt like an idiot for even suggesting it.  
  
Ben went on. "We like Anthony." Pierre nodded. Ben continued, "But the thing is, we don't know him that well yet. I trust that you and Karen know him well enough to feel safe giving him key privileges and that's OK. But Pierre and I are still getting to know him. If we move out of the rooming house, we want to do it right, we don't want to move out of the frying pan into the fire. I'm sure Anthony wouldn't be a terrible roommate or you wouldn't even be asking, but someone doesn't have to be terrible to be incompatible to live with, either."  
  
"Oh." Sören knew Ben had a point, and while he was disappointed with his plan being rejected - he was worried about Anthony - he couldn't fault Ben for having those concerns.  
  
"It's also complicated because of his connection to you. Let's say he moves in with us in a flat here in central London... and he becomes a pain in the arse to live with for one reason or another. I don't want that to make things awkward with my friendship with you. And let's say you and him get back together, and he's living with us, and then your relationship with him falls apart. Maybe not for the reason it did the first time, but maybe it doesn't work out for some other reason. We both know that he's not going to get a third chance and you probably won't be able to stay friends with him if a second chance goes south. I don't want to be put in the middle of you and him, up close and personal the way it will be if he's our roommate."  
  
"That... makes sense." Sören knew it was also hinting at the awkwardness with Craig, and Sören's experience of being in the middle with Ben and Craig - that discomfort would probably be a walk in the park compared to Ben and Pierre's discomfort if Anthony lived with them and that scenario came true.  
  
"And for me," Pierre said, "if we live in a flat that's big enough for three people without us feeling packed in like sardines, I'm not sure what his ability is like to keep up with chores, how much his mother has to do around the house right now. I don't want to push him to do things he's not capable of, but we already live in a situation with messy people."  
  
"And when I eventually go on tour," Ben said, "that would leave the theoretical third party doing more chores for a few weeks to a couple months. Anthony might be able to handle being alone in a small studio that's easy to take care of, I don't know that he'd be able to keep up with a big flat."  
  
"That was one of my thoughts as well when Sören brought it up just now," Nicholas said.  
  
"Yeah, sorry, I didn't think it through too well, it's not practical." Sören frowned.  
  
"No need to apologize," Pierre said. "You're just trying to look out for him.. and us."  
  
Ben nodded. "I think honestly we'd probably be better off in a studio rather than trying to look for a third person to room with us, just because we don't know what we'd be getting with a stranger. It's not ideal, but that's life."  
  
 _You could let Craig stay with you so he has his own bedroom and doesn't have to sleep on Karen and Geir's couch,_ Sören thought to himself, but he didn't say it aloud. That would be playing with fire, he knew.  
  
After Ben and Pierre went back, Nicholas and Sören went for their usual evening walk, then did tai chi together. They changed into pajamas, brushed their teeth, and got in bed together. Sören hadn't forgotten about Nicholas's promise to "deal with his brattiness", another shiver down his spine before they got under the covers, but first they took some much-needed cuddle time, just holding each other, nuzzling, petting, giving each other tender little kisses.  
  
Nicholas began to rub Sören's shoulders, which Sören always loved, melting into his touch. "You're quite a bit tense more than usual, sweetheart," Nicholas said.  
  
"Yeah, I am." Sören sighed. "I just feel kinda stupid for bringing up, you know. The possibility of Anthony being Ben and Pierre's roommate."  
  
"I don't think it was stupid at all," Nicholas said.  
  
"But you said yourself you had concerns about his mobility impacting chores -"  
  
"That's different from thinking it was a stupid suggestion," Nicholas said. "I do understand why you drew the conclusions you did, that it would be convenient for them to be roommates."  
  
Sören nodded. "I also guess I'm tense because... I don't know, it would help Anthony to move out of his parents' house. I realize that worrying about him like this, I probably sound as bad as Elaine -"  
  
"You are a mother hen," Nicholas said, chuckling. "But you also have the courtesy not to overworry to his face, you seem to know where the line is, what would be too damaging to his pride. It seems rather like Elaine does not."  
  
"Yeah. It's October, and he moved back in with his parents in March. That's over six months of daily smothering. I'm sure it'll only get worse as winter gets here and there's ice and snow to contend with, her worrying about him having a fall."  
  
Nicholas stopped rubbing Sören's back and then he took a moment to stroke his chin, looking deep in thought. Finally he turned to look at Sören and their eyes met. "Giving him a key is giving him carte blanche to come over whenever he wants to, even at inconvenient times."  
  
"I'm sure he wouldn't, you know, just drop by at three in the morning. He has some courtesy -"  
  
"That's not what I was getting at." Nicholas exhaled sharply. "If he has a key and he can come over at any time... it's not much of a stretch to let him stay with us for awhile. As you know, there is the guest bedroom across the hall, which is rarely used..."  
  
Sören nodded. Then his eyes widened and he put his hands on Nicholas's shoulders. "You really mean it? You... you're inviting him to stay with us? You're not just saying that to try to be agreeable and make me happy?"  
  
"I'm saying this out of concern for his mental health, as someone who I'd like to be friends with," Nicholas said. "I do feel that it would probably be best to frame it as a temporary arrangement, a stepping stone on the path to independence, him getting his own studio in central London when he returns to work."  
  
"Yeah," Sören said, though there was a part of him that wished they could all just live together indefinitely, one happy family. "Probably need to give him a time limit too, so he doesn't procrastinate."  
  
"A year, maybe," Nicholas said.  
  
"That sounds fair." Sören blinked, still unable to believe he was having this conversation. "And... you're sure it's OK?"  
  
"I'm sure it's OK," Nicholas said. He chuckled and patted Sören's shoulder. "I will say, however, that I'd prefer to not have my living room destroyed."  
  
Sören blew a raspberry. "Oh come on, Nick, the pillow fight wasn't that bad."  
  
Nicholas gave Sören a look. Sören grinned, and then Nicholas grabbed Sören by the curls and pulled Sören down across his lap, over his knee. Another shiver went down Sören's spine, cock stirring as Nicholas pulled down Sören's pajama bottoms and rubbed the sensitive skin of his bottom before giving it a hard slap. "I think my boy has earnt himself a spanking."  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Sören said, giving him a naughty look, biting his lower lip.  
  
Nicholas wagged his finger - a wicked gleam in his eye - and then he slapped Sören's ass again. Sören moaned, cock rising, throbbing. "Such a brat," Nicholas husked, and smacked Sören's ass again. And again. And again...


	17. Closer

Anthony's head was still spinning when he hobbled out to where his mother's Aston Martin was waiting in the clinic parking lot. It was Monday the twelfth, two weeks after his evaluation, and Helen had given him the news today: a diagnosis of both attention deficit disorder and autism spectrum disorder. Anthony now had the option of discussing ADHD medication with his doctor, though Helen noted it was a personal decision and some people chose not to use ADHD medication; Anthony knew Sören self-medicated with caffeine.  
  
Most of the session had been about processing the diagnosis itself - Helen wanted to know Anthony's initial reactions, how it made him feel. It was hard to put into words, a mixture of both relief and regret. Relief that now he knew something was going on with him, and there were ways he could learn to cope specific to his special needs. Regret because it had taken thirty-five years to get to this place - he'd been markedly different in childhood, enough that it had caused him problems, and he wasn't taken into a specialist then. He knew that his parents weren't maliciously withholding treatment for him, there was not a lot known about either condition back in the 80s and early 90s when early intervention would have made a difference, so he couldn't be too upset with them for not receiving a childhood diagnosis. But he did wonder now how his life would have been different if he'd had more support and resources growing up.  
  
And he knew that speculating on the "what ifs" didn't help. Things were what they were, and all things considered, his life had been much better than even many people's who weren't dealing with those same conditions. He'd hit a rough patch, but things were starting to look up, a little.  
  
Nonetheless, Anthony felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders... and a new weight put there in its place. He knew that having the diagnosis was helpful to tailoring strategies for going forward. And yet, the revelation was already changing his perception of himself, and every choice he'd made in his adult life.  
  
It was too much. When he got in Elaine's car he just sat there for a moment in silence.  
  
Elaine, for once, didn't ask how the session was, nor did she start the car right away. She let him sit there, seeming to understand he was in a bit of shock. After a few minutes passed, she put the key in the ignition but still said nothing.  
  
They remained in silence until they were halfway to Blackheath, and then Anthony made a noise, feeling a surge of distress. "Oh no. Oh god, oh no... oh no..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Anthony blinked. He was usually very observant, hyperaware of little details that most people missed - and he'd needed to zone out after the appointment and didn't realize they were this far along on the highway... in the opposite of the direction where he needed to go. "Mum, I don't want to be a pain, but I n-need to see S-Sören."  
  
He swallowed hard, feeling like a needy, overprivileged, overgrown child for asking. It was bad enough that he increasingly felt exasperated with his mother's concern, though he tried to keep it in check, not wanting to hurt her feelings... and now he felt guilty about all she did for him, like chauffeuring him around, and he was asking her to drive in the opposite direction on a whim. He felt ashamed of how badly he needed to see Sören right now, that this was the first thing he thought of to comfort himself when he was like this. "I'm sorry," Anthony said. He started to rock a little, not able to help it. "I'm s-sorry. I shouldn't h-have asked..." He realized then he was in so much emotional distress that his old childhood stutter was slipping out, despite all the work he'd done to control it.  
  
Elaine reached out and put a hand on his arm, her grip firm. She gave him a look that was stern and compassionate all at once, before her eyes got back on the road. Anthony watched her maneuver the car into a different lane and take the first exit, knowing she was going to get back on the highway going in the opposite direction.  
  
"I'm s-sorry. Oh g-god, I'm s-stuttering..."  
  
"Cornelius Anthony, stop apologizing right now."  
  
Anthony shut his mouth.  
  
Elaine cleared her throat. Once she was back on the highway, now heading in the direction of Covent Garden, she glanced back over at her son. "It's normal for you to want your partner when you've had news like this, even if it was news you were expecting."  
  
Not once since Anthony had gotten in the car, had he mentioned that today the diagnosis was confirmed... but he hadn't needed to. His silence, and then the reaction he was having now, told Elaine everything.  
  
Anthony felt another twinge of guilt - since Sören's policy at the end of August that they remain just friends for at least a year, Anthony hadn't informed his mother that they hadn't in fact gotten back together, but were working towards it. Elaine had been so devastated by losing Sören as a future son-in-law, and so overjoyed at his return to Anthony's life, that Anthony didn't have the heart to tell her what was really going on. This was further compounded by the fact that Sören had spent the night once, with Anthony not wanting to correct any assumptions that they'd had sex, not wanting to talk about his sex life with his mother at all. He still felt like he was lying by not correcting her now and saying "he's not my partner yet", but he held his silence.  
  
A few minutes into the charge down the highway, Anthony felt another surge of panic. He knew Sören had off this afternoon - Sören was working the overnight shift, going in at eleven - but he also knew when Sören worked nights, he usually slept during the day, and even though he had a key, he didn't want to just barge in when Sören was trying to sleep. Heart racing, stomach churning, Anthony took out his cell and hit Sören's number on speed dial. To his relief Sören answered after the first ring, which told him Sören probably wasn't sleeping yet.  
  
"Hey," Sören said.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said. "Can I come over?"  
  
"Yeah, sure! But Anthony... you have a key now. Why are you calling first?"  
  
Anthony's brow furrowed. "Sören, I didn't know if you w-were s-sleeping." _Oh shit, he's heard me stutter._ Not once in the almost two years of their relationship had Sören heard him stutter. Anthony's heart hammered even harder. _Fuck. FUCK._ "I d-didn't want to d-disturb you if -"  
  
"I get that, but Geir's woken me up before. It's OK. And it sounds like you need to come over."  
  
 _Shit._ "Yeah, I n-need to see you. I'm s-sorry -"  
  
"Don't apologize. Listen, I have an idea. It's a really nice day, the leaves are gorgeous, you want to go to the park? Same place we went a couple months ago, to see the pelicans being fed? I'll meet you outside?"  
  
Anthony found that touching, not just in and of itself, but knowing Sören had anxiety in the lift and knowing it was probably worse going in the lift by himself, so Sören being willing to meet him outside to make this happen was a very selfless gesture. "OK, thank you."  
  
"How far away are you?"  
  
"Ten minutes or so, depending on traffic."  
  
"OK, see you soon, then."  
  
Anthony ended the call with a sigh. He turned to his mother and asked, "Do you mind driving us to St. James's Park?"  
  
"No, dear, it's not far from where Sören lives. Even if it was, I've told you before I don't mind driving you places -"  
  
"I know, I just." Anthony made a vague hand gesture. "Feel a bit guilty, is all." He realized then he wasn't stuttering anymore - Sören's voice had a soothing effect on him.  
  
Sören was waiting outside on the curb, wearing his black leather bomber over a charcoal grey T-shirt and black turtleneck, with faded jeans. His hair was loose to his shoulders and a few strands were blowing in the breeze. He waved when he saw the car coming down the street, and got in the back once the car pulled over. Anthony noticed then he was carrying a backpack.  
  
"Hello, dearest," Elaine said when Sören was settled in. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm all right," Sören said. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm well. How is Nicholas?"  
  
"The usual," Sören said with a chuckle. "The fall semester is here and he's convinced every year the students get more and more illiterate."  
  
Elaine laughed. "When he was teaching me French he was very hard about grammar. I would have hated him if he wasn't otherwise so nice to me."  
  
"I can see that. I like to get a rise out of him, when he gets pedantic."  
  
Though Anthony knew that Sören meant he liked teasing Nicholas - which Anthony had now seen firsthand - Anthony's mind still went in the gutter at the phrase "get a rise", a mental image of Sören making Nicholas's cock hard. He didn't want to be aroused right now in front of his mother, and he especially didn't want to get aroused over the thought of Sören and Nicholas making love.  
  
Sören didn't ask Anthony how he was, and Anthony suspected Sören already knew. They drove in silence to the park. It was close to two PM now; the pelicans were fed at two-thirty in the afternoon so they had enough time to get to the feeding area. When Elaine let them off she said, "I take it you want to call when you're ready to be picked up?"  
  
"Yes," Anthony said.  
  
"When we're done here, do you want to have coffee or tea at my place?" Sören asked. "Both of you?"  
  
"Oh, yes please," Elaine said. "If Anthony doesn't mind."  
  
"I don't mind," Anthony said.  
  
Anthony hugged his mother and then he and Sören were off. Sören put an arm around him as they entered the park, which was very comforting right about now.  
  
They continued in silence for the first few minutes and then Sören finally looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "You have it, don't you."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. "It wasn't a surprise, but it still..."  
  
"...Is a bit of a shock, anyway. You can mentally prepare for something and still be hit by the impact harder than you were preparing for."  
  
"I stuttered on the bloody phone."  
  
"So?" Sören shrugged. "I lose my ability to speak English when emotions run high." Sören smirked. "As you know."  
  
Anthony couldn't help a small smile back. "As you know."  
  
"Nobody's perfect, Anthony."  
  
Anthony wanted to say _When you speak Icelandic, it's as close to perfection as it can get,_ but he held back - they weren't back together yet, and that felt probably more romantic than was appropriate.  
  
"You need to not be so hard on yourself," Sören said. "If the situation were reversed, would you think any less of me for stuttering?"  
  
"Well, no. I'd feel bad that you were under so much stress that it slipped, but I wouldn't be judgmental or make fun of you about it. I did get made fun of about it, though, growing up, and..." Anthony swallowed hard, and confessed something that had bothered him for a long time. "One time, years ago, I was out at a pub with... my ex-friends... and Steve was making fun of a client he had with a speech impediment. Not to the client's face... behind the client's back. The others laughed, except Lawrence - we eyerolled at each other. I didn't think it was funny at all, and I said so, and I was told to 'lighten up' and not be so 'politically correct'. I considered _then_ whether or not continuing to associate with them was a good idea, but I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want them gossiping about me and starting trouble if we had a falling out. I thought of how I was bullied in school, and how lonely I was, so I... I put up with it. Eventually I mostly forgot about it. Except I started thinking about it again when Trisha mocked me and the others ghosted me after the accident. I feel like such a coward -"  
  
Sören stopped walking, the ire visible on his face. For a moment Anthony thought Sören was going to yell at him and walk off, but then Sören got in front of him, and put his arms around him, hugging him tight. Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder and the tears came silently. He was embarrassed since they were in public, though the park was less busy on a Monday afternoon and he wasn't being loud about it. Sören felt him shaking and Sören's arms tightened around him. Sören began rubbing his back, making soothing noises.  
  
"I also feel like an idiot for not realizing you were being bullied by them," Anthony said, picking his head up. "I wanted to believe that Trisha was really genuinely trying to be nice to you. I... I couldn't see them for what they were..." Anthony shook his head. "I defend guilty people for a living and I couldn't see it at the time. It became so much more obvious after it was all over. I'm so sorry."  
  
Their eyes met, and Sören wiped Anthony's tears with his fingers. He poked the tip of Anthony's nose. "We all make mistakes, Anthony. Yes, I really wish you had seen them for what they were, what they were doing to me. But I also... well, I get why you didn't. And you know, I've been reading up on autism, in what little spare time I have, because I want to be able to support you, and I've learned that a lot of autistic people miss certain social cues. Sometimes the word 'naive' gets used..."  
  
"I don't know that the word 'naive' exactly fits, considering the kind of people I've had as clients."  
  
"No, but it's one thing to see an obviously bad person who got caught doing something very wrong and fucked up, and another thing to see people who are respected by the community, who seem like decent people other than the odd shitty remark and a bit of offhanded casual prejudice. It can be harder to parse, especially if they're being nice to _you_."  
  
Anthony nodded. "I suppose."  
  
Sören patted him. They continued walking, and took a seat on a bench near the pelican feeding area. Sören opened his backpack and took out a can of blood orange San Pellegrino for each of them. Sören clinked cans with a grin. Anthony started to relax as they sat, drinking their San Pellegrino in the crisp autumn afternoon, and took a look around. The fall foliage was at its peak, the deciduous trees burning orange and red and gold among the evergreens. The ground was strewn with fall leaves, and the air had that touch of woodsmoke. Anthony found himself smiling as the pelican feeder came out and began to throw fish to the pelicans, some of whom caught it right in their huge scoop-shaped bills, some of whom chased the fish that fell on the ground, snorting and grunting. Sören's laughter rang out at the noises the pelicans made, and the way their pouches wobbled.  
  
"They're so cute," Sören yelled. "AAAAAAAAAAA, I'm gonna die."  
  
Sören's exuberance made Anthony smile and laugh. The pelican feeding was enjoyable to watch in and of itself, but Sören's wild glee was infectious. Even as it also gave Anthony a touch of wistfulness, making him love Sören even more.  
  
Anthony also felt wistfulness for another reason as he watched the pelicans chase each other, snapping at each other for fish. Sören heard the little sigh and inquired, "Hmmm?"  
  
"Oh..." Anthony looked down. "One of the things I miss about living in Kingston... seeing the swans on the Thames."  
  
"We could... you know. Go down there and watch the swans sometime," Sören said.  
  
"I'd like that," Anthony said.  
  
"Awwww, are you sad now?" Sören reached over and turned up the corners of Anthony's mouth with his fingers, which made Anthony chuckle. "Are you thinking about your place in Kingston? What else do you miss?"  
  
 _You._ Anthony didn't want to start crying again. He thought of the almost-two-years he and Sören lived together, a time when he truly understood the saying "a man's home is his castle". Up until the last few months, things had been idyllic. That flat was their refuge, their sanctuary. But even before Sören had moved in, Anthony had enjoyed living there - the scenic location, the pride in having his own place. The freedom. "Independence," Anthony said sincerely. He sighed again. "Don't get me wrong, I love my mum, but -"  
  
"No, I get it." Sören patted him. "She, ah. She fusses over you a lot."  
  
Anthony nodded. "I feel bad for saying that because then I do things like... we were halfway to Blackheath and I hadn't realized, I was just _gone_ after therapy was done for the day, and I asked her to turn around and head for Covent Garden. I don't do that sort of thing often, but it's... I feel like I'm being an entitled twat for complaining about how much she coddles me when I ask for things like that."  
  
"No, I don't think you're being an entitled twat," Sören said. He grinned. "You're a cake-eating, posh twat."  
  
Anthony facepalmed and then he elbowed Sören, shaking with silent laughter that bubbled out of him. Sören laughed too. He'd missed Sören's banter terribly.  
  
Sören then got a little more serious and said, "But seriously. If you were an entitled twat, you wouldn't be worrying about whether or not you were an entitled twat."  
  
"Point," Anthony said.  
  
"Besides... she does seem to be very... ah." Sören looked like he was struggling for words. "She's treating you like a kid again, like she doesn't seem to understand the difference between you having a handicap and you being a child. She probably wouldn't be like that with other handicapped adults, but it's different with you. Your vulnerability after the accident makes you a kid again in her eyes."  
  
"Yes." Anthony hated how accurate that was.  
  
"To some extent I get that. I think if I had a kid and they became an adult and they got into an accident, I'd be stressed out over them too."  
  
"And I was a fucking wreck when I moved back home," Anthony said. "My mental state didn't help things."  
  
"But you're doing a bit better now, both in terms of mobility and mental health. You may not ever be 100% again, but you are recovering, and she's still at square one. And that's not really helpful to you at this stage."  
  
"No." Anthony exhaled sharply, once again feeling guilt for admitting that. "I don't want to sound ungrateful -"  
  
"You don't. It's understandable you'd be frustrated. Which leads me to tell you - Nick and I were talking about you."  
  
"Oh god." Anthony cringed, worrying that Nicholas suddenly disapproved of him.  
  
" _As you know,_ " Sören said, lowering his voice in an imitation of Nicholas's basso, grinning to put Anthony at ease, then returning to his normal register, "you have a key now. Like I told you over the phone, it would have been OK if you'd just come over without calling first. I get why you did, but... the reason why I answered right away is because I was awake... because I was expecting you, knowing you'd probably be hearing about your diagnosis today."  
  
Realizing that Sören was keeping himself up to be there for him, went right to Anthony's heart. He took some slow, deep breaths, not wanting to cry.  
  
Sören went on, "But anyway, we were talking about the fact that you have a key, and... Nick suggested that maybe you come stay with us for awhile. Like, not permanently. A year, maybe."  
  
Anthony's eyes widened, not able to believe what he was hearing. "Nicholas. Said that."  
  
Sören nodded. "I mean, in fairness, I brought up the fact that I think you need to move out, that it's not good for your mental health to stay there. It's great that your parents are supportive, but I think Elaine is only going to get more overbearing when winter gets here and the streets get all icy and there's the risk of slipping and falling. She means well, she really does, but." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "But yeah, Nick seems to be on the same page and he said that since you have a key, it's not a stretch to offer you the guest bedroom."  
  
It was a very tempting offer. He'd loved living with Sören before... when it was just the two of them. As much as he appreciated that Nicholas was making an effort to be his friend, and he, too, wanted friendship, Anthony felt like he was going to be the third wheel. He also worried that would make the wait of rebuilding trust even harder, and make the sting of not being able to go back again even worse, as he was right across the hall from them sleeping together... making love together.  
  
He also didn't want to be a burden. His limited mobility also limited what he could do around a house as far as chores. He knew that Sören and Nicholas took care of their flat together, but he also knew that having an additional person in the house meant additional cleanup and more frequent cleanup, and he felt guilty about not being able to pull his weight. He was willing to do what he could around their flat if he moved in, but right now, simple tasks still took a lot out of him. He worried that Sören and Nicholas would come to resent him and see him as a bad roommate for not being able to contribute as much to the care of the household as they did. It didn't help that he wasn't working, he didn't know when he'd be returning to work, or if, and he wasn't on a disability pension either. He had money in savings, but it bothered him to live there rent-free or not contribute in some way to the household expenses and things like grocery bills.  
  
"We have a caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat," Sören said in a singsong voice. "You love cats. You've always wanted a cat."  
  
"Tobias wouldn't be my cat, though, he'd still be yours."  
  
"Yeah, but you could still spend time with him. He'd probably want to sleep on your bed." Sören cocked his head to one side.  
  
"I need to think about it," Anthony said. "I'm not saying you're wrong for saying I need to move out, but it's a big step and I worry that I'd cramp your style." His answer was actually closer to no, worrying that he'd move in with them, it would be a disaster, and he'd have blown everything, but he didn't want to upset Sören by saying no this quickly.  
  
"We wouldn't be offering if we thought it would be like that," Sören said. "Nick has a good head on his shoulders." The way Sören's lips quirked as he made that sentence let Anthony know Sören was laughing internally at the phrase _good head_ , and Anthony raised an eyebrow, and they lost it together. It felt so good to laugh with Sören at off-color humor, he'd missed that. But then Sören sobered, took a big sip of his drink, and folded his arms. "Seriously, Anthony, we're not offering to be polite. We know letting someone live with us isn't something to do casually."  
  
"I... I get that." Anthony did wonder however how much they'd thought about the full implications of what they were getting into, like how his limited mobility would impact the upkeep of the household. "I still need some time."  
  
"OK." Sören looked disappointed, but also willing to drop the subject and not push, seeming to understand something of that magnitude couldn't be decided right away.  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes - or as quiet as it could be with the pelicans grunting and snorting in the distance - and then Sören said, "Would you at least accept a gift from me?"  
  
"A... a gift?"  
  
"I have something for you." Sören went into his backpack again, but before he could take it out, he pulled his hand out and paused. "Actually, I wanted to bake a cake for you - a cake that says CONGRATS ON THE AUTISM, but Nick thought that was in bad taste."  
  
Anthony laughed so hard his sides started to cramp and his face hurt. Now the tears came for an entirely different reason.  
  
"It's not that I'm trying to be dismissive of the difficulties or treat it like some sort of superpower... though I don't think there's anything wrong with being autistic, either," Sören said, "it was more a lighthearted attempt at saying 'Yay! You know what's going on with you!' But Nick said no." Sören pouted.  
  
Anthony couldn't stop laughing. _This is why I love you._ Sören was sometimes the most ridiculous thing in existence, and he _needed_ that so much. "Congrats... on... the autism... Sören, you're fucking terrible."  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören smiled and then he reached back in the bag. His fist was clenched when his hand came out. "Here," he said, and opened his hand.  
  
Anthony took the wheel-shaped object made of anodized metal, gleaming rainbow iridescence.  
  
"It's a fidget spinner," Sören said.  
  
Anthony's breath caught - not only that Sören had indeed done his research and _got it_ that he needed to fidget when he was stressed out, instead of the way he'd learned in his teenage years to keep that urge stopped up and not look weird... but also the way Sören said "fidget spinner" with his accent, _feejit speenerrr_. Anthony bit his lower lip, feeling that flutter, melting as he looked into Sören's warm, kind brown eyes. "Say it again," Anthony said.  
  
"What? Fidget spinner."  
  
Anthony grinned. "I love that."  
  
Sören chuckled. "Oh, you."  
  
"I'm sorry. I... can't help it. Your accent is..." Anthony didn't even know how to describe it. He felt giddy and nervous all at once, like a teenager with a stupid crush all over again.  
  
"Go on," Sören said, gesturing to the fidget spinner in Anthony's hand. "Try it."  
  
Anthony looked down at the fidget spinner, and back into those sweet brown eyes, and then Anthony took a deep breath and began to spin the wheel. He watched the blurry, spinning rainbow, and smiled again, soothed by the feeling of the wheel spinning on his fingers, the sight of the whirling colors.  
  
"That looks like fun," Sören said.  
  
There it was. No judgment, no mockery, only acceptance. Anthony knew Sören wouldn't be cruel, but nonetheless, it felt so _good_ to be able to release a little of his internal pressure by fidgeting, in front of the man he loved, and find only kindness. And fidgeting like this, when he'd been picked on about it enough to keep it bottled up for years, in front of someone else - it felt intimate, vulnerable, letting Sören see a part of him he was reluctant to show others. It felt almost even more intimate than sex, a very deep act of trust. Their eyes met and the encouraging smile Sören gave him, lighting up his whole face, made Anthony want to grab Sören and kiss him.  
  
He held back.  
  
"Shit, I should get one of those for when I'm on my break at work." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Can I play with it?"  
  
Anthony's mind sank back into the gutter, thinking about Sören playing with his cock. _Yes, Sören, you can play with it anytime you want. Consider it yours._ Anthony batted that thought away, not wanting to get horny, not wanting the mixture of lust and vulnerability to tempt him to try to seduce Sören when Sören had clearly stated they needed a year. Anthony handed him back the fidget spinner and watched Sören spin it, and once again Sören's exuberance was contagious. Anthony grinned too, enjoying the sight of Sören spinning the wheel.  
  
Sören nodded. "I think I will get one for myself. Then we can be fidget brothers."  
  
That pushed Anthony's mind right back in the gutter, remembering the kinky roleplaying of their relationship, pretending to be brothers... of course, they'd also both dreamed about being brother-lovers in other bodies, in what felt like a long time ago, another life. Anthony's face was on fire, cock stirring in his jeans. Before his mind could run away with too many sexual fantasies of the way they used to call each other "brother" during sex, the wrongness of it making it even hotter, Sören gave him back the fidget spinner.  
  
Anthony played with the fidget spinner some more. He continued to look around at the trees in their autumn glory, the birds, the way the light took on a touch of gold in the late afternoon now that the days were shorter. At last Anthony tucked the fidget spinner into his pocket. "You want to walk around a little?" Even though he was slow and couldn't go far, he wanted to see the park from other angles.  
  
Sören nodded, stood up, and helped him up off the bench, though Anthony would have been all right using his cane to get up. Sören's touch made him tingle, made his cock throb again. But Anthony was soon distracted by the beauty of their surroundings as they strolled. Sören didn't seem to mind the slower pace - Anthony glanced at Sören from time to time and saw Sören taking it all in, could practically see the gears in Sören's mind turning, the visions in his artist's eyes.  
  
"It looks like everything's on fire." Sören smiled. "I like it."  
  
Anthony laughed. "You thinking about painting it?"  
  
"Maybe," Sören said. "I have a lot of ideas for things I want to paint, but only so much time. Still, though, that's a good sign, after the way my muse just went quiet after..." He didn't need to say it.  
  
Anthony's free hand took Sören's and squeezed. "I'm sorry."  
  
"So am I." Sören nodded. "But, already things are better." Sören squeezed Anthony's hand back. "And you have more ways to cope, now."  
  
Anthony nodded. He took out the fidget spinner again and gave it another spin. "I mean, I can't do it in front of other people at work..."  
  
"I hear on the Internet it's common enough now to see people with fidget spinners that probably none of your colleagues or clients will care."  
  
"They'd care in the courtroom, just like yours would care if you whipped it out during surgery."  
  
Sören smirked, and Anthony knew he was reacting to "whipped it out". Sören quipped, "That puts a whole new meaning to 'playing doctor'..."  
  
"Dear _god._ " Anthony facepalmed, snickering. Yes, he'd missed this. "I meant _the fidget spinner_ , Sören."  
  
When Anthony took his hand away from his face Sören was grinning, eyes full of mischief, and Anthony's face burned like the trees. He didn't need to start thinking of Sören's cock again.  
  
Then Sören said, "Point taken, though I wasn't talking about the courtroom, just... around Lincoln's Inn, or in your office. But if you're still self-conscious about it, if you don't think it'll look professional, you could still do it when you get moments alone, between clients, or before and after court. Better to blow off a little steam here and there. If you're less anxious it might help your performance. Not that your performance is bad, from everything I've heard, but what I mean is it might be even better."  
  
Anthony shrugged. The topic of going back to work was still a sore spot for him, and he looked down at his shoes.  
  
Sören put a hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed. Once again, Sören's touch made him tingle, made his cock throb; Anthony fought the urge to grab Sören and kiss him.  
  
Then Sören paused, and took a long look around before looking at Anthony again, and Anthony wondered for an instant if Sören was feeling it too and was going to kiss him. But Sören said instead, "Let's take a short break from our problems. I have an idea."  
  
Anthony cocked his head to one side.  
  
Sören made the "wait here" gesture and Anthony watched as Sören walked over to the base of a cluster of trees, where a large number of leaves had fallen to the ground. Sören got down on his knees and began to scoop up handfuls of the leaves, building a pile. Anthony wondered what Sören was doing as the pile got larger, and at last the pile was a couple of feet high. Sören got up, walked around the pile to get a good look at his handiwork, and then gestured for Anthony to come over.  
  
"What... what are you doing?" Anthony asked.  
  
"Let's jump in the leaf pile together," Sören said.  
  
Anthony gave him an incredulous look. He was used to Sören's silliness, but this was something else. "I..."  
  
"You've never jumped in leaves before?" Sören asked.  
  
"Not since I was very young," Anthony said, "and my father was a bit annoyed since he'd gone to all the trouble of raking them up."  
  
"No one's going to yell at you. And if you're worried about looking stupid, like you're too old for this, the park is quiet, there's nobody else around in this particular area -"  
  
"It's not that." Though Anthony knew there was a touch of self-consciousness and being perceived to look ridiculous, and he knew he shouldn't worry about what strangers thought. But there was a greater concern. Anthony gestured to his cane. "I'm going to have a hard time getting up off the ground -"  
  
"I'll help you. It won't be hard."  
  
 _Oh, something will be hard._ Anthony was going crazy from Sören's touch, and he didn't trust his cock not to get fully erect if Sören grabbed him to pull him up. But the leaf pile looked inviting... he remembered how much fun he'd had as a small boy, jumping in leaves and rolling around. How after his father's initial annoyance, they made a game of it, where Roger let Anthony jump in the leaves all he wanted if he helped his father rake and get the leaves into the compost pile. Roger had allowed himself a moment of fun too - one of the very few times Anthony had ever seen Roger let his guard down and play, joining him in the leaves. And when Anthony looked at Sören, he remembered all the ways Sören showed such wild, unrestrained joy at simple things, the way it made him, too, feel lighter, brighter. Here was another chance for that.  
  
Anthony nodded. "All right."  
  
Sören jumped into the leaf pile, with leaves flying everywhere, and when Anthony hesitated, worrying about how to maneuver his body, Sören grabbed his arms and pulled Anthony atop him into the leaves. Anthony couldn't help laughing as he crashed into Sören, the leaves making a delightful crunching sound as they held each other, rolling around together. A leaf settled onto Sören's nose and Anthony laughed harder, finding the sight adorable. He plucked the feather from Sören's nose and tickled the tip of Sören's nose with it, and fought the urge to plant a kiss on the tip. Sören snatched the leaf away and started to tickle Anthony's ear, which made Anthony laugh harder.  
  
The papery feel of the leaves, the blankety weight of them, and the crunching all was strangely satisfying, as well as that rich earthy smell. Sören scooped up handfuls of leaves from the pile and tossed them up, with the leaves falling back down on them. Finally they had rolled around enough that there wasn't much left to the pile, and Sören sat up. There were leaves stuck in Sören's hair and Anthony thought Sören looked like some sort of forest spirit, or god of nature - and the bright red-orange leaves in his hair, like fire, seemed appropriate for the fire of Sören's spirit. Before Sören could figure out he had leaves in his curls and get them out, Anthony found himself reaching for his phone in his pocket and snapping a few candid photos of Sören.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow, a bemused-and-amused look on his face, and Anthony took a picture of that too, smiling. Then he got a selfie of them together, with Sören pouring more leaves over them before the camera went off.  
  
Sören put a gold leaf on Anthony's head, grabbed Anthony's phone, and took a picture before Anthony could protest. Sören stuck his tongue out when he handed the phone back to him.  
  
Sören got up, and a moment later he grabbed a hold of Anthony and pulled him up... into a hug. The feel of Sören's body against his, Sören's arms around him, sure enough made Anthony's cock throb, though he was only half-hard, not a full erection like he feared. But now, looking into Sören's eyes, the flush in Sören's cheeks, the smile on his face, in his eyes, Anthony badly wanted to kiss him. He was both disappointed and grateful when Sören pulled back and patted him, heading them in the direction of a bench. "You want to call your mum and we can go back to my place for tea?"  
  
Anthony nodded. What he really wanted was to drag Sören back into the forest, push him into the leaves and fuck him right there, but he would settle for tea... and visiting with the cat.  
  
The thought of living there was a very nice thought - indeed, the impending visit gave Anthony the feeling that he was coming home, in a way - but he was still hesitant to take that step. Not the least of which was he could barely resist Sören now, never mind being around him even more. Part of him wanted to just go back to his bedroom and get himself off, aching for Sören as much as he did. _I'll do that later._ There was still time left to spend with Sören today, and he intended to bask in the warmth and light of him as long as he could.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Despite masturbating on Monday evening when he was alone in his room, Anthony continued to feel pent up on Tuesday - if anything, the workout of the physical therapy session and the endorphin rush after made him even hornier, the way he used to get horny after he went for a run. And pleasuring himself again seemed to only intensify his frustration: now that he'd let himself fantasize about Sören, his mind kept going back there, wanting Sören all the more.  
  
Anthony was in the garden on Wednesday morning, trying to distract himself, when his phone went off. To his surprise, it was Geir's number. "Hi," Anthony said.  
  
"Hi, am I calling at a bad time?"  
  
"No, what's going on?"  
  
"I wanted to know if you'd like to go with me later to see a show in Brixton. The band plays covers of stuff you like - Jamiroquai, Pharrell, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder - as well as some of their own original songs. It's at a club with a bar and places to sit, not too much walking and standing involved."  
  
Anthony hadn't been to a gig in over a year. As nervous as he was about going someplace public with his cane, he also could use a night out of the house, and he was happy at the prospect of seeing Geir again. "I'd like that. What time?"  
  
"The show starts at eight. If you want to grab a bite to eat first, I can come sooner than that. Also, I know your mum has volunteered to chauffeur, but I'd be fine taking a cab and picking you up, so that way you don't have to feel bad keeping her up at night."  
  
That was a relief to Anthony - not just because he felt guilty about his mother staying up late when she was at that age to want to go to bed early, but also because her Aston Martin would stick out like a sore thumb in Brixton. "OK. Do you want to try for six, then?"  
  
"Sounds good to me. I'll see at you at six."  
  
Anthony was excited - and nervous - which intensified as it got closer to the time. He showered, once again lamenting the need to use a shower chair, and then he fussed over what to wear. He decided on a black blazer and trousers with a blue shirt, neither too casual nor too dressy. When his mother saw him heading out of his room, she smiled.  
  
"Where are you off to?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, my friend Geir is picking me up and we're going to a show," Anthony said, hoping Elaine wasn't going to grill him.  
  
Elaine smiled. "I'm so glad you're making friends. You look nice."  
  
"Thank you." _I hope Geir thinks so too._ Then Anthony wanted to smack himself for thinking that, his face on fire. _He's just a friend._ But even so, he'd taken care to put on a little cologne, do a once-over in the mirror.  
  
Geir himself looked nice - better than nice - wearing a charcoal grey shirt with a black vest and black trousers, pointy boots. Being around Geir - finding him attractive, being annoyed with himself for it - made Anthony nervous, as well as knowing that very soon he would be around crowds of people. In the back seat of the cab, Anthony took out his fidget spinner and began playing with it.  
  
"Oh, you've got a fidget spinner?" Geir asked.  
  
Anthony nodded. "Sören gave it to me."  
  
Geir smiled. "He's such a sweetheart, isn't he?"  
  
"Very much so. He... he gets it."  
  
Geir watched Anthony spin the wheel, and a moment later he remarked, "That makes me want to get back into doing LED poi."  
  
"Poi?"  
  
"It's a form of dancing. Some people use fire, and some people use LED lights. I used to go to raves sometimes when I was with Hiroshi and I got into poi around that time. When I see you using the spinner it reminds me of the LED tools for poi."  
  
"That would be interesting to watch," Anthony said. He also felt a little more comfortable fidgeting in front of Geir now.  
  
Geir had made reservations at a seafood restaurant in Brixton, remembering that Anthony liked fish, just not sushi. Anthony continued to relax a little as they sat down to dinner together, and over dinner he encouraged Geir to open up about the raves he went to, the way dancing made him feel, his ballet career over the years. Though it was a very different world for Anthony, it was interesting to him, and most of all he liked Geir's enthusiasm, his _passion_ for the art of dance. It was similar to Sören's intensity about his art, while also not quite the same.  
  
Anthony especially liked seeing the fire in Geir's eyes when Geir talked about dancing. Looking into those eyes of blue flame was definitely playing with fire.  
  
Anthony's anxiety cranked up again at the club, even though people were barely looking at him. He felt even more awkward when Geir got up from their table to go to the bar and get them each a drink. Anthony had to be careful with drinking on his antidepressant - he could have one - but he also didn't like to drink too much in public, preferring to keep his wits about him.  
  
Anthony had a cocktail the bar called "Pimp Shit", of cola, Amaretto Ciroc, and Hennessy, and Geir had a mojito. It became apparent not long after Anthony finished his cocktail that the medication he was on made the alcohol hit even harder and even just the one drink was making him full-blown tipsy. In a way this was good - alcohol was a social lubricant, and he stopped worrying so much about the other people in the club; he _felt_ the music more when he was under the influence - but Anthony also found himself reacting more strongly to Geir. Anthony already found Geir attractive without the alcohol, but now Geir seemed downright irresistible.  
  
"This is really nice," Anthony said, propping up his elbow, resting his chin on his hand, hearing the mellow in his voice from the alcohol. "Thank you, again, for thinking of me."  
  
"I thought you could use a night out. And you're good company."  
  
Anthony smiled. "So are you."  
  
Then Anthony's phone went off. When Anthony checked it, he saw it was a text from his mother.  
  
 _Just checking to make sure you're OK._  
  
Anthony grit his teeth and made a noise of frustration as he fired off, _Yes, Mum, I'm fine._  
  
Geir's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"Mum," Anthony said as he put his phone back in his pocket.  
  
Geir chuckled, and then he quickly straightened his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony sighed and rubbed his face, feeling annoyed with the situation. He knew he looked profoundly uncool, a thirty-five-year-old man getting texted before nine PM by his own mummy to make sure he was OK out there in the big bad world. It would be bothersome on its own, but it was especially uncomfortable in front of _Geir_.  
  
 _Why do you care? You guys are just friends._  
  
But Anthony _did_ care, his face burning as his eyes met Geir's bright blue eyes again.  
  
"I know it's got to be hard to be smothered," Geir said. "My mum was overbearing until... she wasn't."  
  
"I feel guilty complaining about it, but yes, it's starting to get on my last nerve."  
  
Geir smirked, sipped his mojito, and then he leaned back in his chair and said, "Sören told me that he and Nicholas offered to let you stay with them."  
  
Anthony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Sören would talk to one of his partners about that sort of thing, but it still felt weird knowing he was a topic of conversation. And then he had the sudden, annoyed thought. "Oh god, did you invite me out tonight just to bloody work on me about the decision -"  
  
"No," Geir said. "I invited you out because I wanted to spend time with you. That _said_... as a friend, I think it would be good for you to accept the offer."  
  
Anthony buried his face in his hands for a moment. He was still leaning towards no, and he felt put on the spot and didn't want to explain to Geir all of the little awkward reasons why he was inclined to refuse - worrying about Sören and Nicholas getting frustrated with him only being able to help with a few of the chores, worrying about his sexual tension building to fever pitch living with Sören, getting jealous of Nicholas and making things weird with Nicholas again. Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere but there, he'd gone from having a very pleasant evening with an alcohol buzz and good music to yet another reminder of all the ways he was still _stuck_ and didn't feel like he was making progress since the accident at all.  
  
Anthony didn't know what to say, and the alcohol had loosened his tongue enough that he found himself snapping at Geir, "You don't run my life."  
  
Geir's eyebrow went up, and then Geir quietly turned away, his attention returned to the music.  
  
Now Anthony _really_ wanted to get out of there, knowing he'd been an asshole, knowing he'd hurt Geir's feelings without meaning to. Geir was just trying to be a friend, just trying to help, and he'd snapped at him. Anthony remembered the insult that Geir had admitted to making before they'd met each other. _Arsehole Ho-bag-Jerkface._ The name rang over and over again in his head like a mantra of doom. He'd proven that name right; he'd blown it. Which meant he probably blew it with Karen, Ben, Pierre, and even Sören and Nicholas themselves, knowing word would get back to them about this.  
  
Anthony swallowed hard. He wanted to apologize, but he felt like if he did he was going to break down crying and the last thing he needed was to make a scene. He also thought about calling a cab himself just to get out of there, but he decided to wait, and took his fidget spinner back out, spinning to calm himself down, get back into the music. That only partially worked - the mood had been soured.  
  
Geir called a cab as the band played their last song, and when the show was over they went right outside instead of lingering. Still not looking at each other, not saying anything. Anthony's heart was pounding... breaking. _I blew it. I fucked up everything._  
  
He had to make things right, or at least try to. Not just because of what the others would think, how they'd react, but Geir had gone out of his way for him and even if Geir was still angry and hated him for his outburst, he still needed to say something. "I'm sorry," Anthony said.  
  
Geir turned to him finally. "I am too. I shouldn't meddle, I just -"  
  
"No, it's OK." Anthony sighed. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."  
  
Geir put a hand on his shoulder - comforting, but also his touch tingled like Sören's did. _Fuck._ Anthony's face was on fire again. "It sounds like I hit a nerve," Geir said. "I'm sorry if I upset you -"  
  
"It's... it's OK. You didn't know."  
  
"Is it OK if I ask why? Is it because you lived with him before and it's too painful?"  
  
Anthony considered - he hadn't thought of that, but then he realized that might be subconsciously contributing to his reluctance. "It's a lot of things," Anthony said honestly.  
  
"Well, you know... I'm your friend. You can tell me what it is, if you think it'll help. I'll just listen, I won't try to push you to say yes."  
  
It was so _good_ to hear that reassurance - _I'm your friend_ \- the confirmation that he hadn't, in fact, flushed their entire friendship down the toilet with his rudeness. After the anxiety that Anthony had been having for the last while - the shock of the relief that he hadn't done permanent damage - and feeling vulnerable as he revisited all of his insecurities about living with Sören, it was enough to bring him to tears. As his jaw trembled he covered his hand with his mouth, trying very hard to keep the tears contained, not wanting to fall apart out here in front of the club as crowds of people were making their way in and out of the club.  
  
Geir noticed Anthony's reaction, seemed to pick up on the fact that Anthony didn't want to make a scene crying out here, and immediately pulled Anthony into a hug. "Hey," Geir said, rubbing his back. "It's OK. It's all right."  
  
"Oh god, I'm sorry," Anthony said, his voice shaking, trying desperately to fight the tears.  
  
"Shhhh, it's OK." Geir took a handkerchief out of his pocket and began wiping at Anthony's face. Then he touched Anthony's cheek, and his touch was soothing and arousing all at once - just that simple touch, with Geir so close to him, made Anthony's cock jolt in his trousers.  
  
 _Great, not only did I snap at him, now I have a hard-on. Brilliant. The only way this night could get worse is if Justin Sodding Roberts came back from the dead driving that godawful McLaren to run me over on the curb._  
  
Their faces were close now, and Anthony couldn't stop looking into Geir's eyes, mesmerized by the star-blue. Geir's lips parted and to Anthony's surprise, Geir's face came closer and closer. Anthony realized Geir was going to kiss him and before their lips could meet, Anthony remembered Sören, that first conversation they'd had at the National. _I don't expect you to not have other partners. I just want you to tell me if that changes._  
  
As badly as Anthony wanted that kiss, he leaned back and put his fingers to Geir's lips. "Geir, wait."  
  
Geir's eyes had been narrowed and now they widened with shock. "Is something wrong? Are you... not interested?"  
  
"I'm interested." Anthony's face burned even hotter now. He was downright giddy that Geir wanted him too, that the attraction wasn't one-sided, that Geir also felt the spark between them. "But... Sören. We agreed upon full honesty going into this and after _what I did_ , it's not right to just charge on ahead, I have to tell him before..."  
  
Geir nodded. "I understand. I shouldn't have tried to kiss you -"  
  
"Well, I don't know that he would have chewed our heads off with just a kiss, but I don't want to risk it just the same, and also it would make it harder to resist... anything else." Even without the kiss, Anthony's libido was racing, his cock aching for relief, his mind burning with fantasies of what Geir was like as a lover. What Geir and Sören were like in bed together. Being in bed with _both_ of them at the same time, taken by one as he filled the other...  
  
Geir stroked Anthony's cheek, and tenderly smoothed his hair. He came closer again and this time he kissed Anthony's brow. Just that little gesture of affection made Anthony feel ready to come in his pants.  
  
Then Anthony pointed at the cab pulling up to the curb. "I think that's for us."  
  
The first few minutes of the cab ride were spent in silence, as if they were both mutually processing everything that had happened just now - and everything that had almost happened. Anthony thought again of Sören. This was in no way replacing him, Anthony still wanted to be with Sören again. It seemed strange to Anthony that he could have two partners, something he never thought he'd be doing in his life, but then a lot of things had been out of the question just a few short months ago. He hoped Sören would be OK with everything when he talked with him about it. But since Geir talked with Sören about him, Anthony found himself curious. "Does Sören know? That you're interested, I mean."  
  
Geir shook his head. "I haven't told him. I don't know if he's picked up on it or not, but then, he was pretty clueless about Nicholas having the hots for him." Geir snickered. "Nicholas would probably have a fit if he heard me using the phrase 'having the hots' pertaining to him."  
  
Anthony laughed too. Then he nodded, taking it in, contemplating. "So this will be news to him."  
  
"Probably. I don't think he'll mind, though." Geir snickered again. "If anything, he'll probably get turned on by it."  
  
Anthony facepalmed, face on fire again. Once again, his mind played delicious mental images of having a threesome with Sören and Geir. _You aren't back together yet, and you don't know that Geir will put up with you long enough for anything like that to happen._ Anthony sighed and tried to push his mind back to the present. "I would suggest that we talk to Sören soon, because he may figure it out that we're mutually attracted to each other, and I don't want him to get upset feeling like we're withholding information to him, lying by omission. And I also don't want to be tempted to go there before we've talked to him."  
  
"I agree," Geir said. "He has tomorrow evening off and I was going to have a date night with him, but before he and I spend time alone, I could bring you over there so the three of us can talk."  
  
That was sooner than Anthony anticipated, but he also knew that if Sören saw them flirting at Sunday dinner without having had that conversation first... he didn't want to take any chances of appearing dishonest, after the way he'd broken Sören's trust in 2013.  
  
"OK." Anthony nodded. "What time tomorrow?"  
  
"Five o'clock? You want to meet me at my place? Then maybe you and Karen can do something while I'm taking care of Sören."  
  
It would be helpful to talk to Karen about it after they'd talked to Sören, if she was willing. "Sounds good." It also sounded scary, even though Anthony knew Sören had made that "if you want to see other people, just tell me first" statement. He still wanted to make absolutely sure.  
  
It was scary in a different way - Anthony hadn't been in a relationship since the one with Sören ended. Even if they were just friends-with-benefits, it was navigating the unknown, with more chances for things to go wrong, for things to get awkward not just with Geir but the rest of the friends group and Sören himself.  
  
And yet, Anthony couldn't push him away. He liked Geir. There was a chance for things to go wrong, but there was also a chance for things to go right. He'd stopped taking chances since the accident, his world had shrunk down. It was time to live again.  
  
Anthony quietly took Geir's hand, and Geir leaned over and kissed the top of Anthony's head. Anthony rested his head on Geir's shoulder for the remainder of the ride.


	18. Sharing Is Caring

It had been a routine for months now that Sören would get two nights a week to spend with his other partners, and Sören knew that before he and Nicholas got together, Nicholas had spent countless nights alone and had ways of entertaining himself, finding things to do like read. Nonetheless, Sören always felt a little guilty about leaving Nicholas alone, and tonight Geir was coming over Sören's place, which necessitated Nicholas going out for a bit to give them privacy, which further made him feel guilty, like he was "kicking Nicholas out" of his own home for awhile, even though Nicholas wasn't complaining and in fact he'd suggested it, to save Sören the trouble of having to walk over to Geir and Karen's when he'd had an exhausting shift. Sören also slept better if Nicholas was beside him - the only other person Sören had ever felt as rested with was Anthony; it wasn't that Sören never slept out at someone else's place anymore, but he was less inclined to do so as of late. So even though he and Geir had a date planned for that Thursday evening, it was only for a few hours, not a sleepover. Sören found himself feeling a little relieved when Nicholas texted him in the afternoon to let him know that while he was spending time with Geir, Nicholas would be visiting with Elaine Hewlett-Johnson, going shopping with her, and he was invited to their place for dinner. That was not only convenient, but it made Sören feel less guilty, and Sören thought it was good for Nicholas to catch up with an old friend.  
  
Sören and Geir were planning on getting takeaway delivered, cuddling, and making love for awhile. When Sören got in from work he changed right away into pajamas, something more comfortable since they weren't going anywhere - something that could be easily removed when they got down to business. His flannel pajama pants always made him feel cozy, and on a chilly autumn night like this it was a good time for hot chocolate. He was in the middle of making himself hot chocolate when he heard a key in the door. He knew it wasn't Nicholas, who was being picked up by Elaine straight from the UCL campus. But to his surprise, Geir was accompanied by Anthony.  
  
"Oh! Hi!" Sören's face lit up at the sight of Anthony, though he was also curious what was going on, since he hadn't been expecting Anthony, even though he knew, of course, Elaine was in the area.  
  
"Hi," Geir said, coming over to give Sören a little kiss, while Anthony lingered by the door, looking a little shy and awkward.  
  
"You guys want some hot chocolate?"  
  
"None for me," Geir said. "I cheated enough this week with training."  
  
"What about you?" Sören looked at Anthony.  
  
"Yes, please," Anthony said.  
  
Sören gestured to the couches and chairs. "Sit down," he said. He knew Anthony was still getting used to being welcome, but he wanted to keep reinforcing that Anthony was, in fact, welcome.  
  
Anthony and Geir sat on the loveseat together, and Sören sat in an armchair. Tobias came over and hopped on Sören's lap, and after a moment of stroking the cat, listening to him purr, Sören asked, "So what brings you here?"  
  
"Well..." Geir and Anthony looked at each other, and then Anthony cleared his throat. "I know this cuts into your time with Geir, but I needed to see you..." Anthony shifted in his seat, looking nervous now.  
  
"Oh god, did something happen? Is everything all right?" Sören knew that if something had happened to Roger, Elaine wouldn't be out with Nicholas, but he also knew something didn't have to be catastrophic for Anthony to be this tense. Sören's imagination and natural tendency to worry began cooking up different scenarios: Helen quitting or otherwise being replaced, when she and Anthony had a good rapport. Anthony seeing his doctor and finding out something was wrong...  
  
"Everything's fine, Sören." Anthony gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
"Yeah, we just needed to talk to you about something," Geir said.  
  
 _We._ Sören wondered if he'd been an asshole without meaning to. "Uh oh."  
  
"It's nothing bad," Anthony quickly said; he knew Sören too well. Geir and Anthony looked at each other again and Anthony went on, "Well, hopefully you won't think it's bad."  
  
Sören's anxiety was now replaced with intense curiosity. He raised an eyebrow and gave the "go ahead" gesture.  
  
"OK." Anthony cleared his throat. "Do you remember when we first started talking again after... everything... and you told me that if I want to see other people in addition to you, you don't mind, you just want to be kept informed?"  
  
"I do," Sören said. "So I take it there's someone?"  
  
Anthony nodded. He looked at Geir again.  
  
"Oh." Sören blinked. " _Ohhhhh._ " He pointed at both of them. "So, you guys..."  
  
"Nothing's happened yet," Anthony said. "We went out last night for dinner and to a club, and Geir almost kissed me, and I told him to wait because we need to talk to you first."  
  
Sören was deeply touched by that - while he wouldn't necessarily have blown up if they _had_ kissed, provided it was just a kiss and not anything more without telling him first, he was nonetheless relieved, grateful and moved that Anthony cared enough about not repeating his past mistake, was committed to honesty. That was a good sign. It didn't mean that Sören felt he could throw "we need to wait a year" to the wind and take Anthony back into his bed - as much as the thought of Anthony and Geir kissing, and more, was delicious, and now Sören's mind was racing with the idea of them having a threesome - but Sören knew they were on the right path. In a way, that proved a small restoration of trust even more than if Anthony had just kept single for the next year.  
  
"OK," Sören said, nodding. "Thank you for letting me know." Sören bit his lower lip as his cock throbbed, thinking about Geir and Anthony kissing, thinking about them undressing each other, caressing each other, sucking each other's cocks, taking turns inside each other... _Oh FUCK._  
  
"So... you're all right with that?" Geir asked.  
  
"Are you kidding me? That's fucking hot." Then Sören clapped his hand over his mouth - sometimes he had no brain-to-mouth filter and sometimes it was worse than others. While he knew Geir and Anthony were both well-acquainted with his more unrestrained and lustful side, nonetheless Sören didn't want to come off like a creepy pervert.  
  
But then Geir threw his head back and laughed, and Anthony turned pink and facepalmed, and when Anthony took his hand away, he had a big shit-eating grin on his face, and Sören couldn't help smiling back at him.  
  
"I'm... amazed," Anthony said.  
  
"I know, that was perverted even for me," Sören said.  
  
"No, it wasn't really that," Anthony said. He gestured at his cane and sighed. "I don't want to sound ableist, but... you know. You still... finding me attractive..."  
  
"Oh, Anthony." Sören sighed too, aching for him, wishing there was some way he could get it through Anthony's head, but he knew Anthony needed time more than anything. Sören decided to keep the tone lighthearted and playful. "It's not like I've ever had a problem with long, cylindrical objects."  
  
It took Anthony a moment and then his eyes widened and he fell over on Geir, heaving, wheezing, face even more red, eyes tearing up, making inhuman noises. "Goddammit, Sören..."  
  
"I don't think you use a cane for that," Geir said.  
  
"I'm sure Google might prove you wrong," Sören said, giving an innocent little smile, leaning back in his chair. Tobias hopped off Sören's lap as if to say _I'm done with this conversation now_.  
  
"Wow, Sören." Anthony shook his head, still laughing. "Just... wow. You've only gotten more corrupt with time."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
When they calmed down, Geir looked at Anthony and then at Sören. "So, is there anything you need to know?" Geir asked.  
  
Anthony nodded. "We want to do this the right way. Total honesty and communication."  
  
Sören couldn't resist another moment of levity, wanting them to know he enthusiastically supported it. "Well, I do have one question."  
  
Geir made a "go ahead" gesture.  
  
Sören grinned again. "When do you fuck?"  
  
They lost it again, and then Geir and Anthony looked at each other.  
  
"You know, if you guys want to go at it tonight, I can take a rain check..." Sören didn't mind.  
  
Geir shook his head. "I made a commitment to spend time with you tonight and I don't want to go back on that. That sets a bad precedent for the future."  
  
"OK, fair." Sören appreciated that they were trying hard to be careful and considerate.  
  
"Besides," Anthony said, "my mum expects that I'll be ready to go home in an hour or so. _As you know_ , she and Nicholas are out shopping and then he's coming over for dinner. I don't want to be rude by not being there, even if he and Mum are catching up and the event would be more focused on them."  
  
"What about tomorrow?" Geir asked. "I have the evening free."  
  
"I have the evening free but I have physical therapy tomorrow and it'll put me out of commission for the rest of the day," Anthony said with an apologetic little frown. "I don't want to have to hold back because I'm too wiped out."  
  
"Understandable." Geir nodded and patted him.  
  
"I do, however, have the weekend free."  
  
"I'm going out for a bit on Saturday morning into Saturday afternoon, but if you want to come over late Saturday afternoon and stay the night... then accompany me to Sunday family dinner?"  
  
"We could do that." Anthony bit his lower lip. He looked down, cheeks pink again. "I'm a little nervous. It's... it's been awhile."  
  
"How long?" Geir asked.  
  
"About eight inches," Sören said, leering, not able to help himself. _And girthy, too._ Sören's cock throbbed, thinking about Anthony's beautiful cock.  
  
Anthony buried his face in his hands and howled while Geir turned beetroot, shaking with silent laughter. Geir didn't blush often, so Sören felt accomplished. Sören also noticed the way Geir's eyes were raking Anthony up and down now, like he found that information very interesting indeed. Anthony took his hands away from his face, grinning and rolling his eyes, also bright pink. "Sören..." Anthony shook his head, still laughing.  
  
"What I meant was," Geir said, trying to sober up and failing, "how long has it been since..."  
  
"New Year's," Anthony said. "Nothing since then. Just my hand and toys." Anthony looked over at Sören and then back at Geir. "I'm on Truvada and I have a clean bill of health -"  
  
"I wasn't really worried about that, though that's good to know. I was just curious," Geir said.  
  
The thought of Anthony masturbating made Sören's cock throb, again when Sören thought of Anthony using a toy. Sören's mind started racing with thoughts of watching him pleasure himself, helping, and then the real thing. And once again, a threesome fantasy.  
  
"He wants to know how tight you are," Sören said bluntly.  
  
Anthony's eyes widened and then he started laughing again. Geir laughed too, and just nodded.  
  
"I mean, I shouldn't assume that you -" Geir looked a little nervous now.  
  
"No, it's fair," Anthony said. "I was primarily a bottom before I met Sören, simply because I got tired of topping 'pillow princesses' who just lay there, I wanted intensity. When Sören and I got together, I settled into more of a versatile role. I'm happy with either, so long as my partner is equally enthusiastic. But I neither want to be exclusively top or exclusively bottom." Though the reply was matter-of-fact, Anthony looked a little flustered, in a way Sören found adorable... and sexy as hell.  
  
Geir nodded. "I thought you might be vers, but I didn't think you were exclusively a bottom, or you would have had problems with Sören, since he's more of a bottom."  
  
Sören snickered. "Our sex life was never a problem." Then he swallowed hard, remembering the end. "Our lack of time for a sex life was a problem. Up until that point though, we were very, very, _very_ good together." _The best I ever had, next to Nicholas._ Sören felt a little guilty thinking that - he did enjoy sex with Geir, and Craig, and Karen - but sex with Anthony had a special sort of magic, matched only by sex with Nicholas.  
  
"I was also curious because I didn't know if you'd had any partners since the accident," Geir said. "If you've had... difficulty.  
  
"Oh." Anthony nodded. "That's a fair question. Well obviously I haven't had any partners since before the accident. The first few weeks following the accident I was afraid I wouldn't be able to... well, you know. But I did discover that it works fine. Admittedly, I'm probably not going to be able to perform in some of the positions I used to because of my limited mobility, and that's disappointing, but so long as I'm in a horizontal position or seated I should be OK, I have fewer mobility issues laying or sitting down than I do standing up or kneeling." Anthony was pink again.  
  
Sören took mental notes - this information was useful to him too, when he and Anthony eventually got back together. Sören would miss things like being taken against the wall, or bent over and fucked at the kitchen counter, he would miss getting on his hands and knees with Anthony kneeling behind him, pounding away, he would miss Anthony getting down on his knees sucking him off, and he would miss Anthony straddling him and riding him. But there was still plenty they could still do, and Sören's mind's eye was reminding him of all of that now, replaying memories as well as creating fantasies of future lovemaking.  
  
"That's good to know," Geir said. He looked at Sören. "I hope none of this is making you uncomfortable -"  
  
Sören shook his head. "These are all things I'd want to know myself when, eventually..." Sören's voice trailed off. His cock throbbed again. Now he was thinking of Geir and Anthony making love, and having a threesome with both of them. _God help me._ Sören felt ready to come in his pants.  
  
Tobias started meowing, and Sören looked at the clock. Even though cats didn't know how to tell time, it was right around the time Tobias was usually fed in the evening. Sören got up and headed to the kitchen, a much-needed distraction from thinking lustful thoughts. Tobias followed and hovered around Sören's ankles, meowing more plaintively.  
  
"Já, já, you're _starving_ ," Sören teased. "You haven't eaten in hours, you poor, hungry, neglected kitty."  
  
"MROWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR."  
  
Sören opened a can of food. Even though Nicholas bought him expensive, high-quality food, it nonetheless stunk - in fact, Sören thought this probably smelled worse than cheaper stuff - and Tobias became even more frantic at the sound of the lid popping open and the smell of the food. Usually the smell of cat food was enough to kill Sören's libido for a little while, so it said something indeed about Sören's lust for the idea of Geir and Anthony making love together that even with spooning the cat food into Tobias's dish, Sören's cock throbbed and dripped, aching for relief, his mind continuing to race with thoughts of Geir and Anthony kissing, caressing, rimming, sucking, fucking. Sören was sorely tempted to invite them both to the bedroom to share him, and as luscious as that idea was, he knew that was also a bad idea - Anthony was rebuilding trust but they still needed time; Sören would be haunted later if they went there now, worrying about the other shoe dropping.  
  
He needed a better distraction than the cat food. He needed to do something completely and utterly ridiculous, that would kill the mood entirely.  
  
Sören found himself opening the drawer in the kitchen counter, where he kept a green kazoo to play on occasion at things like birthdays... and to sometimes annoy Nicholas, because Sören enjoyed getting a rise out of him, thinking Nicholas was sexy when he made a grumpy face (though Nicholas wasn't really actually grumpy; Sören knew it was part of the game they played). The first sexy song that came to mind was "Careless Whisper" by George Michael, and Sören began to play the sax portion... on the kazoo.  
  
"Oh my _god._ " Anthony doubled over, tearing up.  
  
"Wow, Sören. So smooth." Geir snickered.  
  
Sören came over, continuing to play "Careless Whisper" on the kazoo, making sensual pelvic thrusts that were just more goofy than sexy. Anthony fell over on Geir, shaking, while Geir laughed harder.  
  
"Why are you like this?" Anthony raised an eyebrow, still laughing.  
  
Sören came closer, serenading them until he, too, was laughing too hard to keep playing the kazoo. He fell over on the arm of the loveseat, and then Anthony grabbed him and hugged him, and Geir leaned over and hugged Sören as well. Sören relished the tight, cozy group hug.  
  
"Thank you," Anthony whispered, and gave Sören a little kiss on the cheek.  
  
Sören patted him. "Thank you for being honest with me," he whispered back. He was tempted again to grab Anthony's face and kiss him, but he held off.  
  
Anthony took Sören's hand and squeezed. Sören's eyes misted, once again touched by Anthony trying... and feeling cautiously optimistic that they would get there, somehow. Sören didn't want to start crying, so he took the kazoo again and resumed the song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of "Careless Whisper", [this is old but still one of my favorite things on the Internet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKSyPoxzT6w).
> 
> A tip of the hat to SemperViridis for saying Sören has no problem with long, cylindrical objects; I had to use that because that totally sounded like something he'd say. <3


	19. Touch

By the time Saturday came around, Anthony had almost lost his nerve and briefly considered calling Geir and asking to postpone the date or hold off indefinitely. It wasn't that he didn't want to - he was attracted to Geir, and he was pent-up after being celibate for the better part of a year - but he worried about what Geir would think when Geir saw him naked, saw the scars on his chest and back. He had no trouble achieving an erection, but he worried about having performance anxiety enough to lose one, and he worried about his mobility impairments limiting his positions, and whether Geir would get bored or not.  
  
But as he sat with the cell phone in his hand, ready to dial Geir's number and call it off, he stopped himself. He took some deep breaths. _You're a lawyer. You need to look at this more objectively._ He put down the phone, pinched the bridge of his nose, and thought. He remembered that Geir had asked questions over at Sören's place on Thursday, and that mentioning he would have to keep his positions to laying down or seated seemed to not be a deterrent. Geir had also seen Anthony in short-sleeved T-shirts over the summer, which exposed his arms and the lattice of scarring there, and Geir was intelligent enough that he could probably figure out the sort of accident Anthony had been in, there would be more scarring than that.  
  
He looked at himself in the mirror, wishing this was the devil-may-care days of his younger years when he could pick someone up at a bar and not think twice about it. But he also knew he only got this nervous when there was a genuine spark there, not just someone to fuck and forget about; after he'd met Sören at the National in 2011 and Sören had accepted a date, Anthony had an attack of nerves in his car in the National's parking lot, not able to believe he'd been so bold to ask the cute doctor out, and really, really wanting Sören to like him, even though they'd just met.  
  
He didn't feel the same way for Geir that he felt for Sören, and he got the sense it would only ever be friends-with-benefits with Geir... but there was nonetheless caring and affection there. This mattered, and it was making Anthony a lot more nervous than if he was cruising. Not that he wanted to go back to the cruising life for a confidence boost, either. All of his one-night stands after Sören had been profoundly unsatisfying.  
  
Compounding Anthony's anxiety was his mother's reaction. He'd told her he was going out overnight and would be back sometime late Sunday evening; Anthony was insisting to take a cab there and back, rather than have Elaine drive him. Elaine of course fretted about not driving him. At least as far as the overnight itself, Elaine was surprised but not too surprised - Sören had spent the night in August, so perhaps it seemed overdue.  
  
Indeed, Anthony hadn't told her about Geir yet, so he was sure his mother assumed he was spending the night with Sören. He hadn't told his mother that he and Sören were just friends right now, and wouldn't be back together until August 2016 at the earliest. Elaine knew, of course, how his relationship with Sören had ended, and would understand Sören needed time to rebuild trust, but he still felt it was awkward to discuss that with her, especially when she'd been so happy at the prospect of them getting back together and he didn't have the heart to say "well actually, we're not back together." Anthony felt guilty about that, but not enough to sit his mother down and explain everything. Plus he didn't like discussing his bedroom business with her in general, just like he didn't want to know what she and his father did or didn't get up to. It was bad enough to know they'd had sex at least once to conceive him.  
  
But now, as he hobbled out of his room to wait outside on the porch for the cab, a backpack with clothes slung over a shoulder, Elaine was sitting in the greatroom having tea and reading an architecture magazine, and she waved to him.  
  
"Do you have everything you need?" Elaine asked.  
  
"Yes, Mum." _What I need most is a break from being asked things like this, like I'm twelve._  
  
"Just checking."  
  
Anthony gave a tight smile. Then, remembering how his mother liked to call and check up on him while he was out, he said, "Mum, can you do me a huge favor?"  
  
"What's that, dear?"  
  
"Please, don't call. If I need anything, or if anything is wrong, _I will call you_ and let you know. Otherwise... I'm going to turn my phone off." All he needed was to be in the middle of having sex, and get a call from his mother; he could see that killing his erection for the rest of the weekend.  
  
Elaine frowned a little, but she nodded. "All right. I don't mean to be a nuisance, I just worry -"  
  
" _I know._ " _It's the story of my fucking life._ Then Anthony realized how harsh his tone sounded, and felt guilty about the words he thought but didn't say aloud. He took a deep breath and smiled again, not wanting his mother to feel bad. "I understand. But for the intents and purposes of this weekend, I'd prefer to be left alone."  
  
"That's fair." Then Elaine raised her cup of tea with a little smirk. "Have a good time with Sören."  
  
"Thanks, you too." Then Anthony facepalmed, realizing he was so anxious that it just slipped out. But Elaine chuckled, and Anthony shook his head as he walked out, also laughing a little.  
  
That was also one of the things that had endeared him about Sören - Sören's own tendency to say things like that; he remembered one time when they were out and stopped at an ATM and Sören thanked the ATM. Part of why they had been such a good fit had been that mutual social awkwardness, and getting it. Anthony put on an act of being suave, the cool, consummate professional to the rest of the world - but it was just an act, and one that got exhausting. He'd been able to be truly himself around Sören, dorkiness and all, and he'd missed that.  
  
Now he reminded himself, as his nerves keyed up again, that he didn't have to put on an act with Geir, either. Geir accepted Sören's weirdness; Geir would accept his own. Anthony remembered Geir saying he didn't have friends in the ballet world because of how superficial they were. Geir wasn't like his ex-friends. Anthony took some deep breaths, trying to calm down his racing pulse and fluttering stomach. _You can do this. You_ need _this. You'll enjoy yourself._  
  
But Anthony's anxiety only intensified on the cab ride to Covent Garden. He found himself taking out his fidget spinner and playing with it in the back seat, which reduced his tension but only just so. It had been so long since the last time he'd had sex, and it had been longer than that since he'd had sex with someone he cared about, that being Sören. He was worried about all the little ways sex could go bad with a new person - maybe Geir wouldn't be put off by the sight of him naked, or his limited mobility, but maybe Geir would be put off by this touch or that noise or wouldn't like the taste of him or or or...  
  
 _Stop. Stop catastrophizing before anything has even happened._  
  
Anthony ate a breath mint and, as the cab got closer to the building, Anthony put his fidget spinner away. But then the anxiety shot up again, his heart pounding... and Geir was outside, waving as the cab approached.  
  
Anthony swallowed hard.  
  
Geir took Anthony's bag before Anthony got out of the car, even though he didn't have to - but it still made it easier. After Anthony paid the driver and the cab drove off, Geir gave Anthony a little kiss on the cheek. "Hi," Geir said.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said, face on fire. Just that little kiss on the cheek made him feel tingly and giddy and horny.  
  
Geir put an arm around Anthony as they went inside. "I know you have a key now, but I was pacing and decided to just go outside and wait for you."  
  
Pacing. Anthony got the mental image of Geir pacing around, and his barrister instincts kicked in. "Nervous?"  
  
"A little," Geir said. "And excited." Geir flashed him a grin.  
  
Anthony felt a flood of relief and couldn't help grinning back. As soon as they got in the flat, Geir took Anthony into his arms. "Welcome," Geir said.  
  
Then Geir leaned in and they kissed for the first time. Even though Sören had given them the green light to pursue whatever this was, they hadn't kissed on Thursday while they were over Sören's - Anthony thought making out on Sören's couch would be bad form, not because Sören would disapprove, but because the opposite, it would probably turn into a threesome and break Sören's "wait a year" rule. And they hadn't kissed goodbye since Anthony would have felt awkward kissing Geir in front of his mother and Nicholas.  
  
Anthony had thought about what that first kiss would be like - he'd thought about it a lot, he'd been fantasizing about them kissing - and now it was here. He melted into the kiss, the feel of Geir's full, soft lips, and their tongues playing together, slowly. The kiss deepened, the dance of their tongues a promise of what their mouths could do later, and the other ways their bodies could fit together. Anthony heard himself moan into the kiss, felt his cock jump to life. His cock throbbed as Geir's fingers walked down his chest, and when they pulled apart Geir was looking him in the eye, Geir's other hand on his face, thumb stroking his cheek, tenderness and intensity all at once.  
  
"Wow." Anthony started laughing, not able to help it. He felt like he was high. "That was... wow."  
  
"Yeah." Geir's cheeks were pink, which delighted him. Geir smiled and bit his lip as he looked down, then when he looked back up he was all smouldering intensity again. "Uh, come in."  
  
Anthony looked around. He knew Craig was staying on their couch and there were things in the living room that suggested another person lived there, but no sign of him. "Where's Craig? Where's Karen?"  
  
"Karen took Craig out to dinner and a movie."  
  
That sounded like a date, and, noticing Anthony's reaction, Geir quickly added, "It's not a date. They're just friends."  
  
"Is Craig gay?"  
  
"No," Geir said. "He had a serious girlfriend, who broke up with him when he started using again, and they were living together, which is why he came to stay with us after his overdose. But he is bi, like Sören, and he's realizing he likes men a lot more than he thought he did, so he's probably more on the gay end of bi."  
  
Anthony nodded. He also suspected that being with Sören probably had an effect on that; he wondered what Sören and Craig were like together. His cheeks burned again as he thought of Sören dominating Craig, topping him. Craig was cute, and Anthony liked to be dominant with submissive men, but Craig was also young - Geir was young too but it was easier to overlook with Geir's maturity for his age - and Anthony was still shy and a bit wary even without factoring in Craig's addiction history. He would keep his distance with Craig for now.  
  
Geir went on, "As far as Karen goes, even if Craig was straight, I think Karen thinks of him more as a little brother or even sort of like her kid. I know I think of him as a little brother and we're pretty close in age." Geir shrugged. "Anyway, they'll be back later, so we have the living room to ourselves for a bit. I thought you might want to have dinner before we get cozy, so there's some takeaway menus on the coffee table, we can look at them and decide something."  
  
That was thoughtful of Geir, though that kiss had given Anthony an appetite for something else. Nonetheless, he knew it was a good idea to fuel himself, since getting around took more energy than it once did, and he imagined if Geir had been training today he needed to refuel as well. Anthony sat on the love seat and Geir brought them tea. Geir sat next to him, putting an arm around him as they looked at menus together. Just the feeling of Geir's arm around him was almost painfully distracting, and Anthony's heart started racing again, his cock aching for attention. It got worse as Geir began to rub Anthony's shoulder.  
  
Then Geir said, "You're so tense."  
  
Anthony nodded. "I'm nervous. It's... you know. It's been awhile."  
  
They had decided on Thai, and as Geir placed an order, Anthony got reminded to shut off his own phone, not trusting that his mother wouldn't call him, and not wanting to be interrupted. Once the call to the restaurant was made, Geir put his phone down on the coffee table and then he reached and began to rub Anthony's shoulders.  
  
Geir's touch was both soothing and arousing at once, kneading the tension out of his shoulders while simultaneously building tension down below, cock continuing to harden, balls tightening. Anthony could feel Geir's breath on his neck and he felt like every nerve in his body was screaming with sexual frustration, but he didn't want Geir to stop, continuing to melt beneath those talented hands working their magic.  
  
And, a few minutes into the shoulder rub, Anthony felt his chest tighten as well. He remembered that first night with Sören, the way they cuddled on his couch in Kingston, rubbing Sören's scalp, the way Sören melted to his touch the way he was melting to Geir's touch now. Anthony had sensed how touch-starved Sören was, that it had been a long time for him, and that night he had unleashed a hunger in Sören that still sent a chill down his spine and made him rock-hard when he thought about it, close to four years later. Now Anthony was the touch-starved one. It wasn't just that he wanted sexual release, but his body needed proximity, _intimacy_ , so much that it almost hurt.  
  
Anthony swallowed hard. Geir seemed to hear the change in Anthony's breath and he stopped. "Am I doing something wrong?" Geir asked.  
  
" _No_ ," Anthony said, and then he gave a little clear of his throat, feeling sheepish at the vehemence of his answer. Geir smirked, and Anthony's face was on fire again. "No, it's just." Anthony didn't even know how to put into words what he was feeling, not just physically, but emotionally. Afraid to get this close again, but craving it. And he knew it wasn't just the touch he was starving for, but that feeling of being able to let his guard down, be naked and vulnerable with someone again, the act of trust and surrender, and being trusted, being surrendered to.  
  
Their faces were close, their eyes locked again. Anthony couldn't express everything in words, so he let his body do the talking for him. Now it was his turn to initiate the kiss, closing in and crushing Geir's mouth to his. All of the hunger and pent-up need came through in that kiss, Anthony kissing Geir deep and hard, like he was trying to eat Geir alive, and the way Geir moaned into the kiss and trembled against him was encouraging. Anthony found his dominant streak returning, pushing Geir back against the couch, kissing him again and again. Geir kissed him back just as hungrily, just as fiercely, and as they kissed Geir's hands roamed over Anthony's back and chest. Every touch, every kiss was electric, his cock throbbing. Hearing Geir moan, the way they breathed harder between kisses, the lust in Geir's eyes, burning like blue flame... Anthony shuddered. His cock was dripping precum, painfully hard in his jeans. He needed to fuck, and be fucked. He needed to come. All anxiety was gone now, in the single-minded pursuit of desire, wrapped up in seduction. He didn't know if Geir had planned on making out on the couch like this before their food arrived or if Geir had thought they'd just cuddle and watch a program, but if it was the latter Geir didn't seem to mind now, just as hard as he was. It was taking every ounce of Anthony's restraint not to undo Geir's jeans right now and...  
  
There was a knock on the door. Of course, the food was here. Geir and Anthony stopped mid-kiss and then laughed - Anthony's face was on fire again. Anthony laughed harder as he watched Geir rush to the door, the hard bulge in his jeans obvious. Geir opened the door just enough to hand over the money and take the bag of food, so the delivery man wouldn't see his hard-on. As soon as Geir closed the door, a guilty grin on his face, Anthony lost it, shaking with silent laughter.  
  
"I'd ask if you want to take care of this now," Geir said, gesturing to his own tented jeans, "but I'm starving."  
  
"Fair," Anthony said.  
  
Anthony had ordered phad kaprow, a stir-fry with bell pepper, mushrooms, onions, and sweet basil, with chicken. Geir had ordered chicken lettuce wraps. They were splitting a container of thom yum soup with shrimp. The food was good, but Anthony found himself rushing a bit, too horny to really slow down and savor, and Geir was devouring his own food, probably a combination of hunger after intense training, and, Anthony hoped, sexual hunger, also wanting to get to the bedroom.  
  
When they were finished eating, Geir said, "I'm going to take a shower. I'd ask if you'd like to join me, but..."  
  
"I need a shower chair," Anthony said, giving a small frown of regret. He used to love showering with Sören. Though the shower chair could easily fold up when not in use, it was made of sturdy steel and was too unwieldy to carry around, which was why Anthony hadn't brought it, and had opted to shower not long before leaving the house, so he was still fairly fresh. But even if Anthony had brought the shower chair, he thought it was probably going to be really unsexy to sit in it while Geir showered.  
  
"OK. Do you want to wait down here while I shower, and when I'm ready I'll come get you?"  
  
Anthony nodded. He would have been fine with just going upstairs and getting down to business, but he also appreciated that Geir was trying to be hygienic.  
  
The anxiety came back as Geir went upstairs and Anthony heard the shower running. He tried to distract himself with the TV, but his mind kept playing every scenario that could possibly go wrong while they were fucking, and the fallout of things getting awkward with Geir which by extension would make things awkward with everyone else. Anthony tried to push those fears away, telling himself he was being ridiculous - they had been off to a very good start on the couch before the food came - but they kept coming back. Anthony found himself turning his phone back on, feeling relief that his mother hadn't called or texted yet, and he accessed the Duolingo app on his phone. He was getting close to the end of a Norwegian lesson when he heard Geir coming down the stairs - Geir's footfall was quiet, but Anthony had sharp instincts.  
  
" _Kriminaliteten falt etter at kyllingen ble statsminister,_ " the text-to-speech voice prompted.  
  
Anthony typed in the response just as Geir waited on the bottom step, leaning against the railing, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Anthony's erection had been killed by the anxiety during the wait, but seeing Geir mostly naked and glistening made his cock rise again.  
  
" _Crime fell after the chicken became Prime Minister?”_ Geir's eyes widened, and then he started laughing.

Anthony laughed too - it was a ridiculous sentence, but the Norwegian course was full of silly sentences like that, which was one reason why he liked taking it. It wasn't just fun, but it was easier to remember certain words when they were forever burned into your mind in interesting contexts.  
  
Then Geir laughed harder as he tried to do his best seductive pose on the bottom step, wearing just a towel, all wet from the shower. "Hey, baby. You want to talk some more about... chickens?"  
  
Anthony snickered. His anxiety was going away again. And it was another reminder that he was among his own kind - it wasn't just Sören he could relax and be himself around, but Geir too. Anthony smirked and said, "Talk nerdy to me."  
  
Geir gestured for Anthony to come over. Anthony stuck the phone in his pocket, grabbed his cane and rose from the couch, grabbing his bag with his free hand once he was up. When he approached the bottom of the stairwell, Geir took Anthony's bag and pulled him into another deep, fierce kiss, leaving them both breathless. Anthony lamented that he couldn't kneel anymore, wishing he could get down on his knees, yank off Geir's towel, and suck him off right there.  
  
While Anthony had been getting a little more used to stairs through physical therapy, it was still something he would rather avoid whenever possible, as it was still difficult and exhausting. Geir went slowly, seeming not to mind, and the view of Geir's sculpted back helped to take the edge off somewhat. At the top of the stairs Anthony needed to catch his breath, and Geir let Anthony lean on him.  
  
"There," Geir said. "You did it."  
  
Anthony nodded and patted Geir, grateful for the encouragement and understanding, no judgment there. Anthony also kicked himself internally - _if the situation was reversed, if this were Geir or Sören with a cane, you know you'd give them that same sort of compassion and respect. Why can't you cut yourself some slack? You stand up for justice, as a barrister, you help marginalized classes of people, you treat yourself like shit, that's not OK._ But Anthony knew that overcoming his own internalized prejudice was easier said than done, and even as he was trying to fight the shame, he still carried it. Tiring as it was, wishing he could be free of it and not judge himself so much, he still felt slightly embarrassed of how challenging the stairs were.  
  
But there was only kindness in Geir's eyes... and that helped. Geir touched Anthony's face now, and Anthony melted into Geir's touch again.  
  
While Anthony was still reasonably fresh from the shower, he still wanted to prepare himself for what they were about to do. "Can I, ah, visit your restroom?"  
  
Geir nodded. "Oh, by the way, the dark blue toothbrush is yours."  
  
Anthony had brought a toothbrush in his bag, but he was touched that Geir had seen to giving him a spare toothbrush - and that helped confirm this wasn't just a one-night stand to Geir, he would want Anthony to sleep over again. As Geir headed down to the bedroom, Anthony stopped in the bathroom, steamy from Geir's shower, and breathed in the scent of Geir's soap and aftershave. He spent some time cleaning up, including brushing his teeth. He remembered he hadn't shut his phone off after his Duolingo lesson and he made sure to shut it off again. He was both surprised and relieved his mother hadn't texted or tried to call yet.  
  
 _She's going to be like that until and unless you move out and show her you're capable of independence again._  
  
Anthony swallowed hard. That was a huge step and he didn't want to impose on Sören, much as the idea of living with him again was comforting.  
  
Anthony hobbled down the hall. Geir was now naked on the bed... propped up on one elbow, stroking himself. He and Geir and Sören were all about the same length and thickness. Geir's cock was already dripping precum. Anthony's cock leapt to attention. Geir was gorgeous, but the sight of him fully erect, looking at him expectantly, just drove it all home.  
  
"Fuck," Anthony said.  
  
Geir grinned.  
  
Anthony closed the door behind him. He was about to hit the light switch and Geir said, "Leave the lights on, if you don't mind."  
  
Anthony reluctantly took his hand away from the light switch. "OK."  
  
He and Sören usually had sex with the lights on, or barring that, by candlelight; there had only been a few times they hadn't had the lights on and that was usually in the middle of the night, and even then there was the nightlight. He preferred to have sex with the lights on as a rule, wanting to see his lover's body, but he was self-conscious about his scarring.  
  
Anthony came over to the bed. He missed the days when he used to be able to get undressed standing up, putting on a bit of a show, but he needed to sit down now for that. He began to undo the buttons of his shirt.  
  
"Here," Geir said. "I'll help."  
  
Anthony wasn't going to fight Geir about it, letting Geir come over and undo the buttons. Anthony felt shy, even with the look of determined lust on Geir's face, and he found himself glancing away from Geir, cheeks burning. He looked around the room, his barrister observation skills kicking in. Geir had a king-sized bed with a small table with a drawer next to the bed, and an armchair across from the bed. A few meters away from the armchair was a desk, with a laptop sitting on the desk, connected to a small set of speakers. A few meters away from the bed was a large wardrobe. On the wall opposite from the door was a full-length mirror. The bed was in view of the mirror, and now Anthony watched Geir undoing the last buttons of his shirt. Anthony and Geir took the shirt off together, and Anthony folded it neatly on the armchair.  
  
Geir's eyes raked over him. Anthony was trim - not sculpted the way Geir was, but slim. Geir was now seeing the growth of chest hair that Anthony had developed since he'd stopped waxing. There were jagged scars on Anthony's left shoulder and one from near his sternum down almost to his armpit where a large piece of glass from his windshield had got him. There were a few more scars on his upper back; he considered himself lucky that his face had been spared, thanks to the airbag.  
  
Anthony felt the pit of his stomach rise again, as he watched Geir looking at him, but then Geir just reached for Anthony's belt, and then the button and zipper of his jeans. Anthony stood up to pull them down, and knew Geir could see his back when he did. Anthony sat back down and kicked his jeans off, heart racing. Now he was just in his boxer-briefs, black, with an obvious wet spot from where his cock was dripping precum. Geir's hand reached for the waistband but then slid down to palm the hard bulge, and Anthony groaned, feeling that flood of relief again - _he still wants me_ \- as well as pleasure at Geir's touch, the tingle of anticipation that it would feel even better without the fabric barrier there.  
  
Then Geir gently shoved Anthony back, and Anthony watched as Geir rubbed his nose against the bulge in the boxers, lingered at the wet spot of precum to breathe in Anthony's scent. Geir slid up and took the waistband in his teeth, eyes locked with Anthony's as he yanked them down with his teeth, freeing Anthony's hard cock. Once the boxer-briefs were down Anthony's thighs, Geir's teeth let go of the waistband and he pulled them off, throwing them on top of Anthony's clothes in the armchair. He climbed over Anthony then, and leaned in for a kiss.  
  
Feeling the silken steel of Geir's body against his made him shiver, and again as he felt their hard cocks rubbing together. Anthony kissed Geir back hungrily, hands roaming over Geir's body, appreciating the feel of his sleek, sculpted body, the softness and hardness of him. They kissed and kissed, and Anthony felt almost like he was going to come right then, so pent up, aching for it.  
  
Geir started kissing and licking Anthony's neck. Anthony moaned, nails digging into Geir's back. His neck was sensitive, and Anthony was drowning in sensation, pleasure so intense it almost hurt. Geir's hand began to play over Anthony's body, brushing a nipple here, walking over his stomach there, palm sliding up from the stomach to rub the chest hair. Geir continued kissing up and down Anthony's neck and throat, and at last his mouth was at the scars on Anthony's left shoulder, licking, kissing, as his thumb stroked a nipple.  
  
"You are so fucking sexy," Geir rasped.  
  
Anthony's cock jolted. He _felt_ sexy now, his insecurities starting to dissolve. Of course, it was hard to think, period, with what Geir was doing to his neck and shoulder and nipple. Anthony moaned again, and louder as Geir nibbled on him.  
  
"I made myself come so fucking hard last night thinking about you," Geir whispered, before taking a lick at Anthony's neck.  
  
"Oh my god." Anthony shuddered. The thought of Geir stroking himself, fantasizing about him...  
  
"Not once, but twice." Geir gave him a wicked smile. "The second time I thought about you, me and Sören."  
  
"Oh, _god_..." Anthony's hands grabbed at him, feeling desperate. He wanted that too, so much...  
  
"But right now..." Geir came up to kiss him, and then he sucked on Anthony's lower lip. When Geir let go, their noses rubbed and Geir smiled again. "It's just us. And I want to take care of you." Geir's index finger began tracing Anthony's lips. "What do you want?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Geir chuckled, and Anthony laughed too.  
  
They started kissing again, cock rubbing cock, hands exploring each other's bodies. When Geir went back to work on Anthony's neck, Anthony made a primal, feral noise, so pent up he felt ready to explode, and Geir laughed, seemingly delighted.  
  
"Someone's hungry," Geir said.  
  
"You think?" Anthony smirked.  
  
"Mmmm. So am I." Geir kissed Anthony again, hard.  
  
Then Anthony watched as Geir began kissing his way down, from Anthony's shoulder down to his nipples, lapping and suckling, kissing and licking his chest, his stomach, down a hip and thigh. Geir paused at Anthony's cock, looking at it, and licked his lips at the sight of precum dripping. Geir leaned in and took a lick from the head down the shaft, tongue chasing the flow of precum. Then Geir's tongue brushed back up, lashing at the slit, making Anthony moan and gasp, grabbing Geir's hair. Geir gave him another wicked grin before he took the head of the cock into his mouth, kissing it, swirling his tongue as his lips latched around it.  
  
"Oh god, oh _fuck._ " Anthony shivered and bucked against him, and reflexively drew a hand up to his mouth, biting it, growling. It had been too long, and it felt incredible.  
  
Geir focused on just the head at first, sucking and kissing it, every now and again taking it out of his mouth to lick around and around the head, to rub his tongue against the slit before putting the head back in his mouth. His hand rubbed up and down the shaft as he worked on the head, and Geir's other hand gently cupped and rubbed the balls.  
  
"Fuck." Anthony writhed, losing himself in the overwhelming pleasure. "Oh _god_. Geir..."  
  
"Mmmmmmm." Geir sucked harder.  
  
After a moment Geir took the head of Anthony's cock out of his mouth and tapped it against his tongue, making a show of collecting the precum. He took a few long, deliberate licks at the head of Anthony's cock and then licked up and down the shaft, slowly. Anthony trembled, moaning, panting, gasping for breath. When Geir put Anthony's cock back in his mouth this time it was most of it, not just the head. Geir sucked slowly, eyes locked with Anthony's, and then harder, faster. Geir rubbed Anthony's balls more insistently, and a finger strayed to the sensitive place between balls and ass, teasing.  
  
When Geir's finger traced around the rim of Anthony's opening, Anthony felt his balls tightening, ready to explode. He grabbed Geir's hair again - he needed to come, badly, but he wanted to hold off just a little more, not wanting Geir to stop. But when Geir started moaning "mmmmm" again, sucking more hungrily, Anthony couldn't hold back anymore.  
  
" _Geir_ ," Anthony warned.  
  
" _Mmmmmmmmm._ Mmmhmmm."  
  
Anthony let go, shaking, letting out a shuddery sigh as the pleasure throbbed through him. Geir drank all that he could and as he swallowed down, the sight of him swallowing it and the debauchery of his seed seeping from the corners of Geir's mouth made Anthony shoot off again, over Geir's throat. Geir laughed, his face lighting up, and he leaned in to lick Anthony clean. Then he came up to kiss Anthony, and Anthony groaned at the feeling of Geir's hard cock rubbing against his thigh.  
  
"How was that?" Geir asked.  
  
"You give good head," Anthony said, smiling. "Thank you." He gave Geir a tender little kiss, appreciative.  
  
Geir stroked Anthony's face and smoothed his hair. "You taste good." Geir licked his lips, savoring. He kissed Anthony again and then he grinned. "And I could use the extra protein with my workouts."  
  
Anthony facepalmed and shook with silent laughter. "I see how it is."  
  
"I said that to Sören a few nights ago and he started singing that fucking song, what is it called, 'Milkshake'?"  
  
 _My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard | Damn right it's better than yours | Damn right it's better than yours | I could teach you but I have to charge._ Anthony snorted; he was twenty-three when the song came out and you couldn't go to a gay club in those days without hearing it, or some sassy gay divas singing along. "Of course he did." Anthony chuckled. "It's nice to know Sören is still... Sören... after all this time." He could just hear that song in Sören's accent now, which made it even funnier.  
  
"We ought to take you to karaoke some night. He gets very... well, I'm sure you know."  
  
Anthony had an idea, but he didn't actually know, because his ex-friends weren't the sort of people to go to karaoke nights and even if they had been, Sören was never comfortable enough around them to loosen up and be his full-on dorky self the way he was in front of Karen and Geir and the others. That made Anthony ache, wishing he could undo the past somehow... but it was also a good sign that Sören could be that way around them, and now Anthony was accepted into the fold as well. Anthony was starting to feel something like hope again. It was terrifying, worrying that the other shoe would drop anytime now, but it was also a good feeling, a very welcome feeling after months of darkness.  
  
Before Anthony could dwell too long on feelings and the future, he and Geir were kissing again, and Anthony's cock stirred back to life at the kisses and the feeling of Geir's hard cock rubbing against his thigh. When Geir felt Anthony harden up again, Geir adjusted so their cocks were rubbing together once more, and Anthony groaned. Now it was his turn to kiss Geir's neck and shoulder, kissing, licking, nibbling, his fingers walking down Geir's spine. Hearing Geir moan and pant got Anthony going again, doubly so as he thought of Geir and Sören doing what they were doing right now.  
  
Anthony needed to switch gears before he came again just like this, cock rubbing Geir's cock, not wanting to come too soon. He patted his shoulders, and Geir seemed to know instinctively what Anthony meant. Geir rose up and straddled Anthony's shoulders, guiding his cock to Anthony's mouth. With his eyes locked with Geir's, Anthony took Geir's cock into his mouth inch by inch, sucking slowly, teasingly. Geir groaned and shuddered.  
  
" _Fuck._ " Geir bit his lower lip and his breath hitched.  
  
Anthony smiled around the cock in his mouth. His own cock continued to harden and throb, aching for attention, as he lavished pleasure on Geir, continuing to suck slowly, savoring the way Geir gasped and moaned and trembled. Soon Anthony was sucking a little harder and faster, then harder and faster still, devouring, and Geir started thrusting into Anthony's mouth. Anthony got really into it then, rubbing his tongue as much as he could with his mouth full, until Geir's head was thrown back, mouth open, breath shaking. Anthony was sure Geir was about to come in his mouth and Geir stopped and took his cock out. Anthony made a noise of protest.  
  
Geir laughed and Anthony watched as Geir reached over for the lube in the bedtable drawer. As he brought it over, Geir asked, "Do you..."  
  
Anthony nodded.  
  
Geir helped prop a pillow up underneath Anthony's hips, to make it easier. Then they started kissing again as Geir poured lube over his cock and Anthony stroked it, working it in. Anthony's own cock was almost painfully hard now, and though he was a little nervous about taking a real cock for the first time in months, he badly, badly wanted to feel Geir inside him.  
  
Anthony watched as Geir poured out lube again, directly onto his own hand. Geir leaned in and kissed him harder as one finger pushed into him, finding that magic spot right away. Anthony shuddered and moaned into the kiss, and Geir laughed softly. He started kissing Anthony's neck again as one finger became two, moving in and out slowly, then faster. He licked, sucked and nibbled at Anthony's nipples as two fingers became three, and when Anthony began thrusting against Geir's fingers, Geir knew he was ready.  
  
Even though Anthony was ready, Geir still went slow, pushing into him gradually, inch by inch, taking deep breaths, breathing through the pinching and burning as Geir stretched him.  
  
In many ways, it felt like bottoming for the first time again. Anthony thought of the night he'd lost his virginity when he was nineteen - all the way back in 1999 - a fellow student at Cambridge named Mark. Older, early thirties, taking music. Long black hair. Metalhead, but also classically trained. Mark was a loner, kind of a weird outsider, and was the first real friend Anthony had ever had. They'd had just enough alcohol to mellow out and loosen their inhibitions, not so much to be incapable of consent, and Mark had made it really, really good. Too good - Anthony had gotten hung up on him and after a few months as friends-with-benefits, towards the end of the school year, he'd wanted more. Mark didn't, and ghosted him. Heartbroken, Anthony took the next two years off touring Europe, exploring his taste for older men. Anthony thought of Mark now - it occurred to Anthony that Mark and Geir looked quite a bit alike, almost related, though Mark's eyes were grey and Geir's were blue - and for a brief instant Anthony wondered where Mark was, and how he was doing.  
  
Then those thoughts went away as Geir bottomed out inside him, and kissed him deeply. Anthony took Geir's hands and squeezed, then wrapped his arms around Geir, yielding. Geir looked into his eyes, their foreheads close as Geir began to thrust, slowly. A few strokes and any lingering pain became pleasure, as Geir's cock stroked that sweet spot inside him. Anthony cried out, and Geir moaned into Anthony's shoulder.  
  
"You feel so fucking good," Geir husked. "So tight."  
  
"You feel enormous." Anthony chuckled. "You're splitting me."  
  
"Let me know if I'm hurting you and I'll stop," Geir said, giving him a concerned look.  
  
Geir's cock stroked that place again and Anthony moaned. "Don't stop," Anthony breathed.  
  
Geir kissed him again.  
  
They kept kissing, as Geir kept the pace slow, sensual, teasing, delicious. Anthony melted again, the pleasure building deeper and higher. And when Geir began to thrust faster, Anthony gripped at Geir's hips, nails digging into him, whispering "yes, god, _yes_..." Soon the rhythm of Geir's cock had him _right there_ , and when Geir's hand reached between them to grab Anthony's cock, playing with it, Anthony felt himself edging closer and closer to that point of no return. Wanting to come, needing it, but wanting, needing to stay lost in this place, where everything was passion and sensation and lust. The look of intensity on Geir's face, almost angry, blue eyes blazing, sent a shiver down Anthony's spine, a pulse through him dangerously close to climax.  
  
"I can't hold back," Geir rasped, and nipped at his neck. "You feel too good -"  
  
Anthony grabbed Geir's face and kissed him, and three thrusts later Anthony came, shooting over Geir's chest and stomach, crying out into the kiss, feeling like his body was made of lead and yet somehow weightless at the same time, legs turning to jelly as he contracted, crested, bliss. He felt Geir shudder against him, moaning into his shoulder, and that feeling of Geir's hot seed spurting into him. Anthony had another contraction, moaning too, and he sighed as his toes curled. Geir grinned, and then they kissed again and Anthony held him tight, rocking a little, wanting to express his joy with that embrace. Geir rolled them onto their side and now he was holding Anthony too, nuzzling, petting.  
  
"Thank you," Anthony said, burying his face in Geir's chest for a moment.  
  
"Thank _you._ " Geir kissed the top of Anthony's head and began to rub Anthony's back. "You felt incredible."  
  
Anthony tried to make words but couldn't, only was able to make little contented noises. Geir chuckled and pet Anthony's hair.  
  
For awhile they just lay there, holding each other. It was not only cozy to lay there curled up with Geir in post-orgasmic bliss, but Anthony felt accomplished. He felt a little silly that he'd been so worried about the sex going badly, and instead it had turned out to be really, really hot. Enough so that when tender, lazy little kisses became deeper, and their hands started wandering again, Anthony's cock leapt back to life, wanting another round.  
  
Geir laughed as he took Anthony's cock in his hand again, stroking gently. "I can see how you and Sören got on so well. You're as insatiable as he is."  
  
Anthony laughed too, though his cock throbbed at the memory of going multiple rounds with Sören so many nights, the hunger they'd had for each other. Anthony shivered, wondering what it was going to be like when they got back together.  
  
 _If. You mean "if"._  
  
Anthony sighed. For now, he had this. He kissed Geir harder, and now Anthony took the initiative, taking Geir's hand off his cock - Anthony's hand wrapped around both their cocks, stroking them together in that same slow, sensual rhythm Geir had going. Geir groaned and kissed Anthony back.  
  
"I _really_ like this," Geir said.  
  
"You don't say." Anthony smirked. But he still liked hearing it just the same. He didn't feel as insecure now, definitely not worried like he was before.  
  
"Mmmmm." Geir kissed him again. Then Geir's eyes locked with his, all blue fire, heat and need. "You want to top me?"  
  
Anthony's mouth opened and he just nodded. When he found his words - he was a bit surprised - he said, "I thought you were mostly a top."  
  
"I am. Mostly. Not exclusively. My friend Pierre, who I have sex with sometimes, is himself more of a top so we've learnt to trade off. And you said you're not exclusively a bottom." Geir raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you don't have to if -"  
  
Anthony kissed Geir hard, silencing any doubt. Anthony's cock jolted at the thought of being inside Geir. Geir had felt amazing inside him - Anthony loved prostate orgasms - but now his cock wanted to fuck. And Geir's enthusiasm for being fucked, matching kiss with kiss, hands playing over Anthony's body as Geir rolled back onto the pillows... Anthony liked that. He liked that a lot.  
  
But first, Anthony wanted to return the favor, spoiling Geir like Geir had spoiled him. He began to worship Geir's gorgeous, sculpted body, licking, kissing, caressing every inch of him. "You are so beautiful," Anthony whispered sincerely before he nibbled at Geir's stomach. "So hot." He licked where his teeth had just been, smiling as Geir moaned and trembled.  
  
Anthony kissed and licked and nibbled at Geir's thighs, and then, looking at Geir's puckered channel, the beast in him came out to play. Anthony dove in and pushed his tongue into Geir. Geir was still fresh enough from the shower that he tasted clean - earthier and muskier than the rest of him, but clean, not offensive at all. Anthony used to love doing this for Sören while they were together, and now he ate Geir with the same hunger and passion, tongue fucking inside the tight hole fast and hard, then slower, teasing. Geir panted and howled, thrashing around, and when he began to rock his hips, fucking himself on Anthony's tongue, Anthony almost came, cock hardening, throbbing at the deliciousness of Geir losing himself so fully.  
  
Finally Geir grabbed Anthony's hair and said, "Stop."  
  
Anthony stopped, and Geir explained breathlessly, "I'm fucking close, and I want to come with you inside me."  
  
Anthony grinned as Geir reached for the lube.  
  
Anthony kissed and licked Geir's neck as Geir worked the lube over Anthony's cock, and when Geir was ready, Anthony guided the tip of his cock to Geir's opening. Just feeling Geir wrap around him threatened to undo him, and when he was all the way inside, Geir had a dazed look of awe on his face before his face lit up with that big, delighted grin that Anthony loved, infectious joy. Now Geir's arms were around him, and Anthony resumed kissing Geir's neck as he started to thrust, slowly.  
  
Though Anthony knew it was easier for him to maneuver laying down, he'd still been nervous about his ability to do so. But now, on top of Geir, he found his rhythm, slow at first, not wanting to lose control in Geir's tight, silken heat right away... then faster, and faster. Geir rolled his hips back at Anthony, just like Sören had been wont to do. Soon Anthony was pounding away, Geir's nails in his back, Geir growling and making delicious little whimpers as Anthony's teeth were on his neck and shoulder, giving deeper groans and growls. Geir was definitely no pillow princess, but matched passion for passion, giving back as good as he got, and Anthony loved it. The feeling of Geir's channel gripping his cock, and the sound of Geir losing control, the look of ecstasy on his face, the muscles in Geir's gorgeous body rippling as they fucked... Anthony grit his teeth, not wanting to give in too soon.  
  
When Geir started stroking himself, it was all Anthony could do not to come. Geir was even hotter like this, and Anthony loved it. Soon his hand covered Geir's, and his other hand reached to grab a fistful of Geir's hair. Geir's mouth opened and shaky gasps came out, his body trembling; Anthony knew how close Geir was. Anthony rocked into him even harder, as hard and fast as he could. He was going to be sore later, and it was going to be so worth it.  
  
"Come for me," Anthony growled, and nibbled Geir's neck before taking a lick.  
  
Geir let out a fierce cry as his entire body quivered and his seed sprayed over Anthony's chest. Anthony gave a cry of his own as he spent into Geir, feeling Geir contract around him, intensifying the throbbing pleasure of his release. Anthony moaned into Geir's shoulder and let out a shuddery sigh, and Geir's arms tightened around him. Geir moaned again as another jet of his seed splashed against Anthony's skin.  
  
"Wow." Geir threw his head back and laughed. "Fuck."  
  
"Yes." Anthony laughed too, feeling high, feeling so good it almost hurt.  
  
"You know it's good when I made a mess."  
  
With that, Geir scooped up some of his cum from Anthony's chest, and stuck his fingers in his mouth for Anthony to taste. It was lightly salty-sweet, almost no taste at all, very mild. Anthony kissed Geir with the cum on his tongue and Geir moaned into the kiss, and Anthony gave a deeper groan, savoring that moment, feeling truly sated.  
  
They snuggled for a few minutes, and when they looked at each other, smiling, they started laughing for no reason, and then they laughed harder. Then Anthony got teared up - it felt so good to laugh... so good to be in the afterglow... so good to be _here_. Anthony remembered how he wished he hadn't woken up, when he came to in the hospital after the accident, and now here he was, actually enjoying life again. Despite Anthony trying to hold back, not wanting to kill the mood, the laughter turned to tears. Geir pulled him close and Anthony fell apart in Geir's arms, sobbing.  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony choked out.  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Geir said. "It's a big deal. I get it. I was expecting this, honestly."  
  
Geir being so understanding, so _good_ about everything hurt, in a good way. Anthony cried harder and Geir pet him, rocked him, made little tender noises. "It's OK. The worst is over," Geir husked. "Things are getting better. Things _are_ getting better. You have people in your life now who care about you very much. Like me." Geir took Anthony's hand and kissed it.  
  
"I'm not used to it," Anthony said. "Well... I'd gotten used to it with Sören and then I blew it..." Anthony started sobbing again.  
  
"Shhhhhh." Geir kissed Anthony's forehead. "He loves you too. You know this. It's just a matter of time. In the meantime, you've got me." Then Geir gave a wicked grin. "And eventually, you'll have both of us."  
  
Anthony laughed, despite himself. That was a very nice mental image. But then he cried, worried that was still out of reach. He'd been so close to the dark... he was afraid to see the light, afraid he'd lose it again somehow.  
  
"It's going to be OK," Geir said, arms tight around him, rocking him, petting his hair, rubbing his back. "It's going to be all right, Anthony." Geir took Anthony's chin in his hand and looked him in the eye. "You're not alone."  
  
"Thank you." Anthony sighed and tried to pull himself together. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."  
  
"What did I tell you awhile back? We're all kind of a mess." Geir snickered. "Sometimes it's the fun kind of mess."  
  
Anthony facepalmed and laughed again, and then he gave Geir a little kiss. "You're as bad as Sören."  
  
"Wow, really? I feel like I won some sort of award."  
  
Anthony snorted, shaking with laughter. His face and sides hurt. "We should call him and tell him that."  
  
"We should." Geir started looking around the room. "Ah shit, my phone's downstairs -"  
  
"Mine's in my pocket. Er... in the chair. Obviously I don't have pockets right now..." Anthony facepalmed again, cheeks on fire, feeling like an idiot. "As you know."  
  
Geir kissed the tip of his nose. "You're cute, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson."  
  
"I am not cute."  
  
"Right. You're adorable." Geir booped Anthony's nose, and then Geir got up and fished for Anthony's cell phone in the pocket of his jeans. Anthony turned on his phone and waited for it to wake up.  
  
Then, just as soon as Anthony opened the dialpad to hit Sören's number on speed dial, his phone began to ring. It was his mother's number.  
  
"Mum. MOTHER." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told you not to call -"  
  
"I'm sorry, dear. I just worry."  
  
Geir shook with laughter and tried to muffle himself with a pillow.  
  
"Mother, I'm fine. Good _night_." Anthony hit End and made noises.  
  
"You know, maybe you should take Sören up on his offer -"  
  
Anthony shot Geir a look. Geir frowned, and then he gave Anthony a hug. "OK, I'll stop meddling," Geir said. "God knows you seem to get enough nagging from your mother."  
  
"Tell me about it." Anthony sighed.  
  
Geir put Anthony's phone down on the bedtable. "We'll call Sören in a bit. In the meantime, you need hugs."  
  
Anthony snuggled up against Geir. That was just as nice as the sex; Anthony loved cuddling. His eyes teared up again... it had been so long. He needed this so much. He was afraid of how much he needed, afraid he was going to come off as too needy and Geir would eventually ghost him the way Mark had, years ago.  
  
"It's all right," Geir soothed, rocking him again. "It's going to be all right."


	20. Tease

It was eleven-thirty in the morning on Thursday, November fifth; Anthony had arranged to meet Sören at the National for brunch, since Anthony was now meeting with Helen twice a week and Sören's break coincided with Anthony being nearby after his appointment. When Sören got in the cafe, Anthony was already there with two cups of coffee, and breakfast sandwiches for each of them, their usual from the cafe when they had breakfast or brunch together - a bacon, gouda and egg sandwich for himself, and a bacon, sausage and egg wrap for Sören. Sören smiled as he took a seat.  
  
"Good morning," Anthony said. "Well... it'll be afternoon soon. But I guess for you I should be saying good evening?"  
  
Sören nodded and made noises. He'd been at the National since eleven PM last night, and he was going home at three. He began to wolf down his wrap, not caring about decorum. Anthony nibbled his sandwich more thoughtfully.  
  
"Dare I ask how your shift is going?" Anthony asked.  
  
"It's going." Sören chuckled. "We had a couple late-night emergency trauma cases, you know how that goes. Before I go home I've got an evaluation, will probably have to schedule the patient for testing, and then I have a pre-surgery consult."  
  
"You look exhausted." Anthony frowned.  
  
"I am exhausted, but... you know how it is. It's my calling. I can't exactly walk away. And if I don't burn out, if I keep at it, I'm going to make consultant eventually." Sören took a sip of his coffee and resumed devouring his wrap. It was already mostly gone; he was going to need a second one. "How are you? How was therapy?" He realized he'd asked that with his mouth full.  
  
Anthony nodded. "Tuesday was my last physical therapy appointment, and now that I'm not doing physical therapy twice a week anymore, Helen wanted to bump our sessions to twice a week since, you know, my doctor thinks I have seasonal affective disorder besides regular clinical depression, and winter's on its way..." Anthony sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "Anyway, we talked about the end of physical therapy. I didn't expect it to hit me as hard as it did. I'm definitely getting around better than I was right after the accident, or even a few months ago but it's still..." Anthony gestured to his cane and frowned. "It's frustrating to know this is about as good as it's going to get."  
  
"I imagine it's frustrating when you used to be able to walk for long distances and run," Sören said, "but there's nothing _shameful_ about your disability."  
  
Anthony nodded again. "Helen is trying to help me get that through my head. We talked about how that shame seemed to get reinforced by my ex-friends and the way they were so shitty and judgmental of other people..."  
  
Sören found himself hissing like a cat. He crammed the last bite of his wrap into his mouth, like he was tearing Trisha's head off.  
  
"All the little, subtle things, but they all added up. And I just sat there, uncomfortable, but didn't want to start fights with them." Anthony's frown became a scowl.  
  
"You were afraid they'd turn on you," Sören said.  
  
"I shouldn't have been." Anthony looked down. Then he looked back up, frowning a little less, but still looking pensive. "We talked about that, too. Why I put up with them as long as I did. The bullying, when I was in school. How the first real friend I had ghosted me, when we started sleeping together and I wanted a bit more..."  
  
Sören's mouth made an "o". "You never told me about that."  
  
"I never thought there was really anything to tell." Anthony shrugged. "Very few people end up with the person they lose their virginity to, less so with queer men. I was nineteen, I got hung up on an older guy who took my cherry and ran, though he didn't right away." Anthony looked around then, suddenly aware they weren't alone in the cafe, though if anyone else was listening they weren't obvious about it.  
  
Sören put his coffee down, reached across the table and took Anthony's hands. He felt for him. "I was seventeen when I lost my virginity. Also to an older guy, who got bored with me and ghosted me after he was done, but in my case it was after the first time."  
  
"Jesus." Then Anthony's lips quirked without humor. "Wonder if it was the same guy."  
  
"I doubt it, unless your first was an Icelander."  
  
"No," Anthony said, his lips quirking a bit more. "Just my first real love."  
  
Sören's breath hitched; their eyes met, and held. _Goddammit, Anthony, don't make me feel things. Don't tempt me to take you back this soon._ Sören let go of Anthony's hands, feeling like his own hands were on fire. His eyes began to mist with tears. He desperately needed levity and grabbed for the first witty comeback that came to mind, glancing around the cafe. "Jæja? Who was it? I'll go back to Iceland to beat him up."  
  
"Very funny, Sören." Anthony sipped his coffee.  
  
Then Sören got back on the subject, needing to distract himself from the sudden unexpected surge of emotion. "Anyway, fuck those 'friends' of yours. You've got better friends now."  
  
"We talked about that, too. Helen is encouraging me to reach out more, to seek support when I need it instead of worrying that I'm going to be... you know. Too needy." Anthony swallowed. "Seen as weak."  
  
"None of us see you as weak," Sören said. "And none of us judge you because of that, either." Sören pointed at Anthony's cane. "I don't judge you. None of us judge you." Then Sören grasped at levity again. "I'm sure Geir doesn't have a problem with you."  
  
Now Anthony grinned, cheeks turning pink, and he laughed into his coffee. "No. He showed me as much last night."  
  
Sören bit his lower lip. He definitely did _not_ need the mental image of Anthony and Geir going at it, he didn't want to get horny right now. He needed a distraction; it was definitely time for a second sandwich. Sören looked at his empty napkin and then over at the queue for ordering, which was shrinking, though Sören knew it would get busy soon. "I'm going to get another sandwich," Sören said, about to get up from his chair.  
  
"I'll get it for you," Anthony said, grabbing his cane and standing up. "You've been on your feet since last night. You want another wrap?"  
  
Sören nodded. While he felt guilty about Anthony waiting on him, he had indeed been on his feet for a long time and he was exhausted, and though he didn't want Anthony to push himself too hard out of a sense of toxic pride, he nonetheless knew there were things Anthony needed to do... especially with the way his mother was coddling and smothering him. Sören reached into his pocket for his wallet and Anthony waved his hand. "You guys feed me every Sunday, this is my treat." Anthony patted Sören's shoulder as he hobbled over to the queue.  
  
Just that little touch was like an electric shock, Sören's nipples hardening under the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore under his scrubs, his cock starting to stir. Despite himself, he watched Anthony's ass in those jeans as Anthony made his way over.  
  
Then he noticed that Anthony was moving with a bit more of a hitch than usual - rather gingerly, as if in discomfort. Sören felt a twinge of guilt, thinking about calling Anthony back over and he'd get in line instead, but he knew that would just embarrass him. He did however give Anthony a concerned look as Anthony hobbled back over a few minutes later with the sandwich.  
  
And then when Anthony sat back down, ever so carefully, and winced, Sören realized it wasn't his injury acting up. Sören's lips quirked and he felt an eyebrow go up.  
  
Anthony's blush and the way he looked off to the side confirmed it. Anthony sipped his coffee, saying nothing, but then he bit his lower lip and looked down as he put the coffee cup down.  
  
Sören snickered as he chewed his sandwich. "I take it you and Geir had a good time last night?"  
  
Anthony nodded vehemently and now his blush deepened and he shook with silent laughter, his face breaking into a big shit-eating grin. Sören grinned too, even as his cock throbbed, not able to help the delicious mental images of Geir fucking Anthony.  
  
"Geir's probably walking funny today too." Anthony smirked before he finished his sandwich.  
  
Sören heard himself let out a little moan as he took a bite of his wrap. That was the _last_ thing he needed; now his hole was twitching too.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
Sören's own face was on fire now, and when their eyes met Anthony winked, before sipping his coffee. Sören gave him a look and kicked him under the table. Anthony started playing footsie with him under the table.  
  
"You said we needed to wait a year," Anthony said. "You didn't say no teasing. No hinting at what we're building up to, what we're waiting for." He leaned back in his chair, grinning again, green eyes full of mischief.  
  
"You fucking dirty lawyer."  
  
Anthony threw his head back and laughed.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Though Sören managed to resume work and focus on his last patients of the day, as soon as his shift was over at three his mind went racing back to thinking of Anthony and Geir together. He tried to distract himself on the way home, but those thoughts kept coming back, and by the time Sören reached his neighborhood in Covent Garden he felt ready to scream with sexual frustration.  
  
It was going to be at least two or three hours before Nicholas was home. Usually after a long shift like this Sören would take a nap and set his alarm to start dinner. But now he found himself walking not to their building, but in the direction of Karen and Geir's.  
  
If it had been closer to the time when Nicholas was getting home, Sören would have waited at home and pounced on Nicholas as soon as he got in the door, but it wasn't, and he _needed._ Though Nicholas and Sören had a rule about Sören only spending two nights a week sleeping elsewhere, Nicholas also didn't mind if, while he was at work, Sören visited with other partners, and even indulged himself, so long as it didn't interfere with their own sex life. Sören had a feeling he'd still have room for Nicholas later, like having room for dessert. In the meantime... Sören's cock throbbed with each step as he made his way to Karen and Geir's flat, hands trembling as he took out the key.  
  
Karen, he knew, wasn't there - she was working at the Royal Opera House. Craig was there, playing a video game by himself on the couch. He paused and waved to Sören when Sören walked in. Sören smiled and waved back.  
  
Sören made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands and clean up, which wasn't unusual. Sören was hoping to see Geir, horny as he was from the thoughts of Geir and Anthony going at it; he checked Geir's room and Geir wasn't there, and he hadn't seen or heard Geir in the rest of the flat. When he came back to the living room he asked, "Geir's not here?"  
  
"No," Craig said.  
  
That was unusual, but then, Geir was on a more intensive training schedule right now.  
  
 _Or maybe he's out with Anthony._ Sören's cock started throbbing, mind playing those delicious mental images again.  
  
Craig put down the controller and opened his arms for a hug.  
  
 _Good enough._ Sören went right over to him, pulled Craig against him, and kissed him hard. Craig kissed him back passionately, arms tightening around him, and the way Craig moaned into the kiss and trembled against him made Sören's cock stiffen even more.  
  
Sören started kissing Craig's neck feverishly, savoring the sound of Craig panting, moaning as Sören knew just how to get him worked up. "I want you," Sören growled, nibbling Craig's neck. "Now."  
  
Craig grinned and drew Sören into another kiss. Then Craig reached to pull off Sören's scrub top, and helped Sören out of the long-sleeve T-shirt he wore underneath. Craig ran his hands over Sören's bare chest, thumbs teasing the pierced nipples, and Sören grabbed Craig and kissed him again, growling into the kiss as he reached for Craig's own shirt, resisting the urge to just tear the fabric apart.  
  
They quickly got out of the rest of their clothes and once they were naked, they stood together, cock to cock, kissing. Sören loved the way Craig shivered as his fingers brushed down Craig's spine, before he cupped Craig's ass possessively, and squeezed. Craig let out another moan, kissing him hungrily.  
  
Craig looked down at their hard cocks rubbing together, and looked up at Sören with a naughty little smile. Then he got down on his knees, poised to take Sören's cock in his mouth.  
  
"You're a good boy," Sören said, stroking Craig's face, "but I want something else right now." He needed to fuck. He needed to make Craig walk funny the way Geir had made Anthony walk funny... the way Anthony reported Geir was also walking funny.  
  
Sören grabbed Craig's hair, tugging as Craig rose to his feet. Craig's cock jolted and Sören smiled - Craig did love having his hair pulled - and then Sören slapped his ass and marched him over to the couch.  
  
"How do you want it?" Craig asked.  
  
"Get like a dog for me," Sören commanded. "Face down, ass up."  
  
Craig did as he was told, getting on all fours on the couch, grabbing a couch pillow for his head. Sören knew where Craig kept his lube and he got the lube now, before he knelt behind Craig on the couch. Craig had been wearing a butt plug, which drove Sören mad with lust as he pulled out the plug and took a moment to admire Craig's ass and the little pink hole waiting for him. Sören poured lube over his cock and stroked it to ready himself, so worked up that he almost came right then from the touch of his own hand. Craig let out a little whine and shook his ass - he wanted it as badly as Sören did. Sören slapped his ass again before he guided the tip of his cock to Craig's opening.  
  
That first instant of sliding into Craig's silken heat almost undid Sören. His fists clenched and he took deep breaths, reaching out to grab Craig's hips. Craig moaned when Sören was all the way inside.  
  
The beast in Sören awakened, showing no mercy, slamming into Craig hard and fast. Craig loved it, gripping the couch pillow white-knuckled, moaning, crying out "oh god, fuck me, oh _fuck_ that's good, _yes_..." Craig loved it even more when Sören slapped his ass and reached down, one hand grabbing Craig's hair, the other hand caressing his back, fingers playing up and down his spine. The sound of their hips slapping together and Sören's balls smacking against Craig's from behind was almost as loud as Craig's cries and Sören's deeper groans. Sören lost himself in the sensation of Craig's tight channel gripping him, stroking him, and knowing he was pleasing Craig too, wanting to make this good for him. Sören savored Craig's trust and surrender, especially when Craig began rocking his hips back at Sören, fucking himself on Sören's cock, pleading "harder... fuck me harder..."  
  
Sören slapped Craig's ass again as he gave in, fucking Craig harder, faster, pounding into him. "Good, já? You like that?"  
  
"God, yes..."  
  
"Are you a little slut for me? You love it when I just bend you over and take it, don't you? You'd give it to me anytime I want..."  
  
Craig whimpered and gasped out, "Please... oh god, please, yes, I want you to take me anytime you want..."  
  
Sören smacked Craig's ass again and groaned appreciatively. "You're such a good pet."  
  
"Fuck." Craig shivered. "Fuck me... fuck me anytime, anyplace, I need it so bad..."  
  
"That's right." Sören spanked Craig's ass, harder. "This is mine, to take and fuck anytime I want..."  
  
"Oh god, yes, it's yours, fuck me, I'm yours... fuck me, _fuck me_ , please..."  
  
And then Craig couldn't make words anymore, almost sobbing with pleasure. Sören reached a hand around and started stroking Craig's hard cock, and leaned down so he could kiss and nibble the back of Craig's neck and shoulder, driving Craig even wilder with sensation. Sören tilted Craig's face so they could kiss and slowed down, teasing them both. He took his hand away from Craig's cock and made Craig watch as he licked and sucked the precum from his fingers, savoring the taste of him... then their tongues rubbed together, playing, and that moment of sensuality sent Sören right to that edge, harder to hold back. He reached for Craig's cock again and started to pound into him again, needing Craig to come first.  
  
Holding back was easier said than done, Sören gritting his teeth, feeling ready to lose it with the way Craig was gasping, panting, the deliciousness of Craig wrapped around him. Sören knew what Craig needed. With one hand still pleasuring Craig's cock, Sören's other hand spanked Craig's ass again and again. "Show me who you belong to. Come for me."  
  
Craig screamed Sören's name, then let out a wordless howl as his cock creamed over Sören's hand and made a mess on the couch below. Sören lost control, climaxing, collapsing onto Craig's back as his body shook with the throbbing pleasure of his release. Once again Craig tilted his head and they kissed deeply.  
  
Then Craig started laughing. "We're going to have to clean the couch."  
  
"In a minute."  
  
They rested for a few minutes like that, Sören's weight atop Craig's back, and Craig sighed. "You feel nice," Craig murmured. "Safe."  
  
Those words went right to Sören's heart. He knew what they cost Craig, after Craig had told him the horror story of being abused by a friend-with-benefits. Sören kissed the top of Craig's head and rubbed his nose in the sandy hair. " _Elskan._ "  
  
Sören eventually got up, and so did Craig. Craig reached for a box of tissues to wipe the couch but Sören stayed his hand, feeling mischievous - his body was hungry enough for a second round, and that would take the edge off until Nicholas was ready later that night. Sören stroked Craig's face and then he said, "Now you can get on your knees."  
  
Craig did as he was told and Sören pointed to the mess of Craig's cum on the couch pillow. "My messy boy should clean it up with his tongue."  
  
Craig looked at the couch and then at Sören. He took a deep breath and Sören watched as Craig began to lap up the streaks and puddle of cum with his tongue. Watching Craig's tongue at work got Sören hard again, his arousal intensified by how beautifully submissive Craig was... every now and again giving Sören a look that was trusting and innocent yet wicked all at once, looking down at Sören's hard cock before he got back to work. When the cum on the couch was gone, Craig licked his lips and looked at Sören expectantly. Sören sat on the couch and pulled Craig onto his lap and kissed him, tasting Craig's cum in the kiss.  
  
"Such a good boy." Sören kissed the tip of his nose. "You want to go again? You want to ride me?"  
  
"Fuck, yes." Craig straddled Sören's lap and sank down on his cock.  
  
Sören loved being ridden, watching his cock go in and out of Craig's passage, watching Craig work his lithe body as he rode, watching the look of ecstasy on his face. Sören's hands ran over Craig's chest and stomach and thighs, and every now and again they kissed. At last, as Craig rode him hard, one of Sören's arms wrapped around him, Sören's fingers playing up and down his spine, as Sören's other hand played with Craig's cock. Craig moaned and screamed loud enough that Sören was pretty sure it could be heard from the street, and Sören playfully nipped at his throat.  
  
"My boy is so loud. You love the neighbors knowing that I'm fucking you, don't you?"  
  
"Oh god, _yes._ " Craig gave a little whine and rode even harder.  
  
Sören slapped Craig's ass, and then began to caress Craig's back again. Craig threw his arms around Sören's neck and leaned in to kiss him deeply, moaning into the kiss.  
  
They didn't last much longer. When Sören started kissing and licking Craig's neck, Craig made telltale keening noises that Sören knew were a sign he was going to come hard. Sören bit Craig's neck and growled, "Come, _elskan mín._ "  
  
Craig threw his head back and cried out as he spent over Sören's chest. The sight and sound of Craig coming sent Sören over the edge, letting out a fierce cry of his own as he climaxed for a second time. They kissed, moaning into the kiss as they clung to each other, trembling together. Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder, gasping for breath, and Sören pet his hair, kissed the top of his head.  
  
Sören dozed off a little, sitting there holding Craig, adrift in the cozy, radiant bliss of two wonderful orgasms. Then he felt Craig nuzzling his beard and he opened his eyes and smiled. Craig gave him that look of trust again and Sören stroked Craig's cheek.  
  
"I love you," Craig said.  
  
They had been doing this for awhile now and they hadn't crossed that line of saying "I love you" to each other. But Sören cared for him deeply. It wasn't on the same level as Nicholas - or Anthony - but Craig definitely had a place in his heart. They had been dancing around that, as if confessing those feelings would change things somehow - Craig was guarded with his heart after everything that had happened earlier this year - and yet, admitting to it just confirmed what they'd already known for some time. "I love you too." Sören kissed the tip of Craig's nose.  
  
"I know that... you know." Craig made a vague hand gesture. "You have other partners, and I'm not expecting -"  
  
"Shhhh, I know." Sören gave him a kiss. Then he pet Craig's hair and resumed stroking his face. "But the feelings are still there. I can't imagine my life without you in it, any more than I could imagine my life without Karen or Geir or..."  
  
Now Craig initiated the kiss, kissing him hard. Sören groaned into the kiss - he wished he could take the night and just fuck Craig all night long, showing Craig how he felt with his body - but he did need to get back home before Nicholas did, and needed to save some for Nicholas. Sören pulled back and rained tender little kisses over Craig's face. "Unfortunately I have to go home soon," Sören said.  
  
"I understand." Craig nodded.  
  
"Maybe we could go away for a weekend," Sören said. "I'd have to clear time, but..."  
  
"I'd like that." Craig beamed.  
  
"You've been such a good boy." Sören kissed Craig's nose again.  
  
"I've been clean for six months. Technically closer to seven..."  
  
Sören hugged Craig tight. He felt guilty that he hadn't acknowledged the six-month anniversary in some way. "We definitely need to celebrate."  
  
"Just not a CONGRATS ON THE SOBRIETY cake." Craig snickered.  
  
Sören snorted - he'd cheekily made a CONGRATS ON THE SEX cake for Anthony and Geir the weekend they'd started sleeping together, much to Nicholas's chagrin. "No, no cake." He gave Craig a pointed look. "I was thinking more of... frosting."  
  
It took Craig a minute and then he fell over on Sören, shaking with laughter. "You're _so bad._ "  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören patted him, grinning. "But seriously. I'd like to take a night or a weekend to spoil you for being such a good, good boy."  
  
"You already spoil me, but I won't say no." Craig hugged him. "And thank you for... not freaking out when I said..."  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " It tore at Sören's heart, knowing Craig had been holding back out of fear of rejection. "I do love you."  
  
They held each other tight, and were still holding each other, naked, when Geir walked in.  
  
"I'm torn between 'awwwwwwww' and 'Craig, put some clothes on,'" Geir quipped.  
  
Craig gave Sören a saucy butt wiggle before he started getting dressed again. Sören smirked as he got dressed too. As Geir made tea, Sören came over to give him a hug and a kiss.  
  
"I'm on my way out," Sören said.  
  
"Awww, no sloppy seconds?"  
  
Sören kissed him again and gave him a playful swat. "Maybe next time."  
  
"It's just as well." Geir smirked. "Anthony really wore me out last night."  
  
As much as Sören needed some time to recharge before Nicholas, Sören's libido woke up again, his mind once again starting with mental images of Geir and Anthony kissing, caressing, sucking, rimming, fucking. Sören grit his teeth and made a little whining growl.  
  
Geir winked and booped Sören's nose.


	21. Wrapped Up

Anthony waited in the cafe, feeling a twinge of anxiety as he glanced around at the other people. He kept checking the time on his phone, even though doing that didn't make the time go any faster. He'd arrived a little early, to give himself enough time to get in the queue and order breakfast and coffee for himself and Sören, and of course arriving early meant that it would be a few minutes yet till Sören showed up in the cafe. Even so, it felt like an eternity, and Anthony knew it wasn't just because he still got nervous in public - it was because he really, _really_ wanted to see Sören.  
  
Even though he'd seen Sören on Thursday, and it was Saturday now, it was still long enough. Too long. Anthony was missing Sören more and more all the time. His arrangement with Geir hadn't changed his feelings or his desire for Sören at all - if anything it was more intense now, remembering how good it could be, anticipating how good it _would_ be when they were finally back together. Anthony liked Geir, he cared about Geir a lot, but it was like comparing a candle to a bonfire. Anthony's heart beat faster, waiting for Sören's arrival. Any minute now...  
  
He still had at least another five minutes to go. He felt like an idiot checking his phone over and over again, but he needed to do something with his hands and he wasn't comfortable playing with the fidget spinner in the cafe. He found himself opening up the Duolingo app and starting a lesson. He was two questions away from the end of the lesson when Sören approached with that warm, dazzling smile that took his breath away.  
  
Sören had sent Anthony a text earlier in the morning requesting an iced coffee, which was weird for November, but then Anthony knew Sören threw off a lot of body heat. Even though Anthony had remembered a straw for Sören's drink, Sören still went over to the straw dispenser, force of habit, and came just in time to hear the text-to-voice prompt for the last part of the lesson. " _Skilpadder bruker ikke toalettpapir._ "  
  
Sören doubled over as he sat down, laughing so hard he shook the table.  
  
"I take it you know what that was," Anthony said.  
  
Sören nodded. "Jæja, Danish is my third language, but it's close enough to Norwegian that já, I recognized 'turtles do not use toilet paper'. In Icelandic it's _'skjaldbökur nota ekki klósettpappír'_." Sören shook his head, still laughing. "What the _hell_ is going on with Duolingo?"  
  
Anthony grinned and after the horns blared to signify Anthony had completed the lesson, and then there was another blast as he leveled up, he put the phone down. "Norwegian is the only course that's like that. The others are a bit less colorful. I guess Scandinavians have a weird sense of humor."  
  
"I don't know where you would get _that_ idea, Anthony." Sören had taken two straws from the dispenser and after he peeled the paper off he stuck a straw up each nostril, completely deadpan.  
  
 _Goddammit Sören, stop making me love you so much._ Anthony thought Sören was at his sexiest when he was being ridiculous. Stomach fluttering, cheeks burning, he asked, "Did you... plan that?"  
  
Sören nodded solemnly. "I would have done it later in the conversation but you gave me an earlier window." Then Sören smiled, innocence and mischief all at once. "It's a good look, já?"  
  
"You could wear anything and look good." _Of course, you look best wearing nothing at all._ Anthony didn't say that aloud, but now he had the delicious mental image of Sören naked. He wrestled it back - he didn't need to get worked up right now.  
  
Sören took the straws out of his nose, put the end of a straw that hadn't been in his nose in his mouth and fired a spitball at Anthony from the wadded-up straw paper. Then, grinning, Sören used the clean straw that Anthony had got for his iced coffee and began to drink his iced chocolate espresso as Anthony pushed over two breakfast wraps for Sören.  
  
"Ah, _takk._ " Sören dug in. There was a wolfish quality to him when he ate that Anthony also found sexy.  
  
 _You just find everything about him sexy._ Anthony sighed as he nibbled on his egg, bacon and cheese sandwich. "How's your shift?"  
  
Sören made a noise. "Jæja, today it's just all tests and consults. But it's also making the day _drag_. It goes by faster when I'm operating."  
  
"I can see that. My days in court were always faster." Anthony sighed again. He missed that, though he wasn't _quite yet_ ready to return. He needed more time.  
  
"I would hope they'd go by fast, with you wearing that wig." Sören attempted a wink that was more like a clumsy blink.  
  
Anthony chuckled.  
  
"Poor George. He hasn't seen the sun in months, has he?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
Anthony almost spat his coffee. Sören had given Anthony's barrister wig the name "George" and they'd had a running gag throughout their relationship where Sören treated the wig like a pet, and George sometimes ended up in random places around their flat; occasionally Sören "wignapped" George and took pictures of George out and about, such as accompanying Sören in the park near the National. "Guilty," Anthony said.  
  
Sören wagged a finger. "We're going to have to do something about that."  
  
Anthony facepalmed, laughing harder.  
  
"You should bring George when you come over for Sunday dinner," Sören said, pouting a little. "I miss him."  
  
Anthony shook his head, snickering. Then he said, "I'm not going home again till after Sunday dinner."  
  
"Oh! You sleeping over Geir's again?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "Well, first Karen and I are going shopping, then I'm spending the evening with Geir."  
  
"Shopping, eh?" Sören smirked. "Getting some new clothes to impress Geir?"  
  
"Actually, no." Though Anthony wondered if maybe he should go clothes shopping at some point for that reason - and to impress Sören, too. Before Anthony could think better of it, he blurted out the reason for his shopping trip with Karen. "Karen and I are shopping for your birthday present." Then he covered his mouth, realizing what he'd said.  
  
Sören's smirk became a grin. "It's not like it's a secret my birthday's coming up. I don't expect anyone to spend money on me and get me things, but a gift itself wouldn't be a surprise, it's what it is."  
  
That was one of the very few things Anthony didn't understand about Sören - his lack of materialism, the sort of mentality that meant he didn't expect gifts on his birthday. Anthony knew it was because they came from two different worlds, Anthony was from an affluent background and Sören had been brought up in near-poverty with alcoholic guardians; Sören was also from a small town in Iceland where people still lived close to the land, fishing and farming. "I do want to get you something," Anthony said.  
  
"Don't spend too much money on me." Sören gave him a stern look. "No more Rolexes."  
  
The Rolex watch had been one of the things Sören had left behind when he moved out. Anthony realized some time after he got it that it was impractical - Sören didn't wear a watch, especially not when he had to wash his hands so frequently for work, and wear gloves so much of the time - but he had wanted Sören to feel less awkward around his friends and had mistakenly assumed it was because of a lack of wealth and status symbols. Nonetheless, Sören's rejection of the gift when he moved out had stung, and bringing it up now was a bit of a sore spot. Sören seemed to sense that now, as Anthony looked down at his sandwich, and Sören gave him a playful kick under the table.  
  
"Sorry," Sören said.  
  
"It's OK." Anthony gave a little handwave. He knew Sören wasn't intentionally trying to rub salt in the wound. He decided to change the subject slightly - he didn't want to make a faux pas and get Sören something he didn't want. "What _do_ you want for your birthday?"  
  
"A gangbang," Sören said, and now Sören realized he'd blurted something out and his own hand clapped over his mouth. He looked around the cafe, cheeks pink, while Anthony shook with silent laughter.  
  
"Wow, Sören. Just... wow." And then Anthony's amusement became lust as he thought of Sören bent over, fucked by Geir, then Nicholas, then riding his cock. Anthony's cock stirred in his jeans and Anthony grit his teeth, trying to think of something else to kill his arousal.  
  
"Sorry," Sören said, but the look on his face told Anthony he wasn't sorry at all.  
  
"You are a minx," Anthony said.  
  
"Nick calls me a rakehell."  
  
"You're both." And now Anthony was thinking of Sören being spit-roasted between the two of them, sucking Nicholas's cock while Anthony fucked him... sucking Anthony's cock while Nicholas fucked him. He had a strange feeling of déjà vu, even though he knew they'd never done that, it still felt strangely familiar for some reason, enough to send a shiver down his spine. He got slightly irritated with himself for such an irrational thought... and finding himself aroused by the thought of Sören and Nicholas together, rather than feeling jealous. They made a very attractive couple, though, and the mental images of them coupling were delicious. Anthony's face was on fire now - he definitely didn't want to be attracted to Nicholas. He was sure the feeling wasn't mutual, even if Nicholas had warmed to him; he still wondered on some level how much of Nicholas's kindness towards him was genuine and how much of it was to appease Sören.  
  
"What was it you said on Thursday?" Sören leaned back in his chair. "Something about waiting a year not meaning no teasing... no hinting." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip before his lips wrapped around his straw, and sucking on it of course sent Anthony's thoughts right back to Sören sucking his cock.  
  
Anthony swore under his breath. Sören's face lit up in a big, triumphant grin.  
  
Then Sören got a little more serious. He shrugged and said, "Surprise me."  
  
Anthony gave him a look. "It would help if you at least gave me a clue."  
  
"To be honest, I haven't really thought about it. I know my birthday isn't that far away but still." Sören shrugged again. "So long as it's not something wildly impractical like, you know, a Rolex." Sören winced. "Sorry."  
  
"It's OK." Anthony reached across the table and patted him. Now he wasn't thinking of the past at all - he was thinking of Sören getting gangbanged again, and it turning into a deliciously debauched orgy.  
  
Something told Anthony the day was going to be even longer for him than it would be for Sören.  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Oh god, I should have never asked about shopping here." Anthony grimaced as he hobbled around the selection at the Royal Opera House Gift Shop. Ballet slipper key rings here, tea sets there...  
  
Karen folded her arms and pursed her lips. "This is why I asked you more than once if you were _sure_ you wanted to shop _here._ "  
  
"I honestly didn't know what your shop carried. I was thinking... I don't know." Anthony shrugged. "Stuffed animals or something. You know Sören loves soft toys."  
  
Karen gave a little smile, her eyes softening. She nodded. "It's one of the most endearing things about him. He doesn't put on a macho act at all, he's secure enough in his masculinity to appreciate soft toys and bunny slippers and..." Her voice trailed off and she bit her lower lip.  
  
As uncomfortable as Anthony had once been with knowing Sören and Karen were together, he found himself strangely grateful for it now. Their eyes met and Anthony smiled too. It was something he and Karen could bond over now - their fondness and appreciation for the man they both loved.  
  
Then Anthony looked around at the stock on the shelves again, making another face. "He may not be macho at all, but..." He picked up a deck of floral note cards and wrinkled his nose. "This is very not him. When Sören and I used to write notes to each other we used scraps of paper, or plain index cards, or post-it notes." Then Anthony stopped, face on fire. He wasn't fond of playing macho either, but he felt like he'd admitted to something strangely intimate.  
  
"I know about the love notes, Anthony." Karen put a hand on his shoulder. "Sören still has them."  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped. He didn't even realize Sören had kept them, let alone not tossed them all out when they'd broken up. That knowledge went straight to his heart and his eyes began to burn with unshed tears. "Oh god." He clapped a hand over his mouth, fighting back the sob.  
  
Karen drew Anthony into her arms and hugged him tight, smoothing his hair. She rocked him for a moment and he allowed a few silent tears - just a few, and quiet. He didn't want to make a scene in a public place. Knowing Sören kept the love notes after all this time _hurt_. In a good way. But still a hurt, like lancing a festering wound to clean it out. _He really does love me. My god..._  
  
They pulled apart and Karen gave him more pats. "He loves you," Karen said, echoing Anthony's thoughts. "And you love him... and you know him well enough to see that... this won't do." She looked around the store and gave a wry chuckle.  
  
Anthony nodded. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "Yeah. It's..." Anthony picked up a wooden kazoo. "The only thing I could see him actually using from this place is this."  
  
Karen nodded and started laughing, and Anthony laughed too. It felt good to laugh, after those tears.  
  
Anthony sighed then. "I feel guilty for asking you to come here, and I'd feel guilty asking you to browse other shops with me -"  
  
"There's no need to feel guilty. I feel like maybe I should have told you what you were in for, but you seem to be the type who has to see for yourself."  
  
Anthony nodded. "I developed a bit of a reputation for investigating things personally even after solicitors had come by and asked questions. That's how I met Sören, actually, I was doing independent research for a malpractice case with one of his co-workers." Anthony would never forget that fire in Sören's eyes when Sören asked him why he was defending the doctor in question.  
  
"You know, I never knew how you guys met." Karen cocked her head to one side. "I knew a bit about your relationship, that you'd been engaged... the way you took care of each other... but."  
  
"I was drawn to him immediately. That accent. Those eyes." The most beautiful eyes Anthony had ever seen, warm and expressive. "His intensity. I'd felt more life radiating from him in the course of five minutes than I had felt from other people over the last five years."  
  
Karen nodded. "He has this way of being like... the center of gravity. A hundred people in a room and he stands out. That was how I felt when we met in Reykjavik, in 2009."  
  
"Yes." Anthony frowned at a floral-print umbrella. "He deserves something marvelous and unique for his birthday, like he is. And I feel at an utter loss of what to get him."  
  
"Well, I think you're overthinking this." Karen put a hand on her hip. "Sören is marvelous and unique, but he also likes gifts that are either comforting or practical, or some combination of the two. Maybe a book or set of books."  
  
"Maybe," Anthony said. "I know he likes to read, but if it were as simple as that I would have suggested going to Greenleaf instead of coming here. Nicholas has an entire library, _as you know_ , and I don't want to get him something that Nicholas already has. I also know that Sören has limited time - he's still working on the Ursula K. LeGuin books he got when we went to Greenleaf awhile back, where I've already devoured the N.K. Jemisin books from that same trip. I feel like throwing more books at him would possibly overwhelm him and make him feel guilty about a slower reading pace."  
  
"Again, you're overthinking, but then I suppose that's why you're still a barrister and I'm not."  
  
Anthony wanted to correct her with _was_ , but he stopped himself. Lawyer mode was so deeply ingrained in him that even as he was taking a hiatus to recover physically and mentally from the accident, he was going into lawyer mode regularly. It was only a question of time now, before he'd go back to work. Anthony took a few deep breaths, feeling the twinge of anxiety about his job and hobbling around in the courtroom. "What would you suggest, then?" His eyes met Karen's again, challenging.  
  
Karen thought for a minute. "A compromise. If you're not going to pick out a book for him, maybe get him a gift card so he can pick it out himself. And Greenleaf sells things besides books. Like soft toys." She smiled. "And silly T-shirts. Sören likes all of that."  
  
That idea wasn't horrible, but... "A gift card seems so impersonal?"  
  
"No, not really. It lets Sören decide for himself." Their eyes met once more. "It shows that you respect his decisions and his autonomy. That, too, goes a ways towards repairing trust."  
  
"I suppose. But..." Anthony made another face, and played with a ballet slipper key chain. "I don't like the thought of just handing him a flat envelope and saying 'here's your gift'."  
  
"So, you can put it in a box, wrap it up."  
  
"That still seems... tacky."  
  
"OK, so maybe not a cardboard box, but a fancy box. Maybe a little music box or something similar."  
  
Anthony thought, and then he remembered when Sören had met his grandmother, Anthea. Anthea was an artist herself, who had a small fortune, and she had been impressed with Sören enough to give him a genuine Fabergé egg. Sören had left the egg behind when he'd left, even though he loved the egg - Anthony supposed Sören didn't feel right taking it. But Anthony wanted Sören to have it, and he'd felt strange about trying to give it back to him, not knowing the right way to do it. This was a way of giving him the egg again, and a fancier container for the gift card.  
  
But then Anthony worried that if Sören unwrapped the egg, he might refuse and not even open the egg to find the gift card inside. He needed to disarm Sören somehow. It seemed appropriate to put the egg inside another, larger container - treating the Russian egg like a sort of Russian nesting doll. The question was what.  
  
"Maybe we should go to an antique shop and find something," Anthony said. "But we came all this way, so I think I'm going to walk around for the full horror show." He cringed and laughed at the same time.  
  
He and Karen walked around together, and then out of the corner of Anthony's eye he saw it - an ice bucket in the form of a golden pineapple, made of aluminum. It was seventy-five quid, and it was big enough to hold the egg inside. And ridiculous enough that Sören would probably laugh too hard opening it, too silly to outright refuse the egg. It would be easier to tell him to open the egg, if the egg was nesting in the pineapple.  
  
"That," Anthony said.  
  
Karen's eyes widened and she had a gigglefit. "That's... wow."  
  
"Wow is right." Anthony snorted, shaking with silent laughter. "That's bloody _ridiculous._ Especially for seventy-five quid."  
  
"You're really going to get it?" Karen watched as Anthony picked up a box with the pineapple inside, and tucked it under an arm to carry to the register.  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly. He remembered Sören's words in the cafe: _So long as it's not something wildly impractical like, you know, a Rolex._  
  
"It's wildly impractical but not a Rolex," Anthony said under his breath. On the way to the register he grabbed a wooden kazoo; he'd put that in the egg with the gift card.


	22. Hold Me Now

Sunday dinner with his chosen family was always cozy and relaxing, a much needed balm after Sören's hectic work week, and a way to start the new week fresh. But as the family was gathered in Nicholas and Sören's living room after a good meal, Sören had a strange sense of unease, not sure why, and not even cuddling against Nicholas with a cat purring on his lap could shake that feeling. Sören didn't like it.  
  
Then a phone began going off. There were glances around the room; Sören panicked briefly that it was his phone and he was being called into work, but then remembered that was a very different ringtone than anything he used. Karen reached for the phone in her pocket and when she looked at the number on the screen her eyes widened. "It's Mum, I have to take this," she said as she swiped to accept. "Mum! Hello?"  
  
Nicholas met her eyes and said softly, "You may use the guest bedroom upstairs for privacy."  
  
Karen nodded and took off.  
  
A few minutes later Sören heard crying. He and Geir looked at each other, and before Geir could get up, Sören bolted off the couch and ran upstairs - immediately regretting it as his asthma kicked in, requiring him to take a hit off his inhaler once he was at the top of the steps. Karen's sobbing was louder within proximity, and despite his asthma attack Sören rushed to the guest bedroom, where Karen was sitting on the edge of the bed, nodding and crying as she continued the phone call with her mother. Sören waited outside the door, not wanting to interrupt, and Karen looked up and held up her index finger, letting him know she'd be just another minute. Then Karen said weakly, "OK. Thank you for letting me know. Please call me if... when..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
Sören heard a female voice say, "I'm so sorry, Karen. I'll call you as soon as we know anything else."  
  
"Please do. Bye Mum."  
  
"Bye, sweetheart." A pause. "Love you."  
  
"Love you too." Karen ended the call and then she sniffed loudly.  
  
Sören went right to her, getting on the bed beside her, taking her into his arms. She cried on his shoulder and Sören began to rock her, petting her hair. "What is it, _elskan mín_?" Sören took Karen's chin in his hand and met her eyes, stroking her cheek. The pit of Sören's stomach rose, realizing whatever this was, that was why he'd felt that strange sense of anxiety when all was calm and everything seemed fine.  
  
In moments like this, he hated being right.  
  
He also hated _knowing_ things. He was an atheist, or at least agnostic. He was a skeptic. He was a doctor, a man of science. Moments of precognition... he didn't want to touch any of that pseudoscientific "woo" with a ten-meter pole.  
  
He forced himself back to the present. To Karen and her distress. It was a call from her mother... "Is your father all right?"  
  
Karen nodded. "His mother isn't." Karen wiped her eyes, chin trembling again.  
  
"Oh no." Sören frowned. He'd heard Karen talk about her paternal grandmother, Anna, before - they were very close, and Karen had hoped to introduce them at some point. "Is she..." He didn't want to say the word "dead".  
  
"She had a stroke and she's in hospital." Karen scowled, and then took a few deep breaths, trying to pull herself under control. "She's... unconscious. Mum called instead of Dad because Dad's at her bedside and..." Karen broke down again.  
  
Sören hugged her tight. He ached for her. He didn't have much in the way of family but if something happened to Ari or Dag... " _Elskan._ " He wished he could do something to soothe her hurt and he also knew it was beyond his control. He felt helpless, powerless... and he hated that too, even more than he hated that precognitive feeling that he'd had more than once which did in fact turn out to be something, like that feeling of panicked dread when there was a bomb threat at Lincoln's Inn. Or the panic attack he'd had on the same day, to the very hour that Anthony had been in his car accident. A shiver went down Sören's spine. He kissed Karen's forehead.  
  
"Oh god." Karen sobbed harder. "I'm going to have to tell Ben..."  
  
There were footsteps coming up the stairs. Sören and Karen pulled back a little, just in time for Geir and Ben to reach the door.  
  
"Hey," Geir said. "What's going on?"  
  
"Her grandmother's in the hospital," Sören said.  
  
"Oh no." Ben's face fell. "Is it..."  
  
Karen nodded, closed her eyes, and started weeping again.  
  
Now Ben got on the other side of them and he and Karen clung to each other. Karen tried to choke out information through her tears but was crying too hard. Sören took some deep breaths, pushed himself harder to think in English - his thoughts started to shift more to his native language under high emotion, especially stress - and he said, "Anna had a stroke. She's unconscious."  
  
"Fuck." Ben started to cry too. "No..."  
  
Now Geir, Ben, Karen and Sören were all in a group hug. Suddenly Tobias was there too, hopping onto Karen, giving a meow of concern, and purring loudly, as if he knew he was needed.  
  
"Awwwwww," Geir said, giving the cat some pats. "He's a good boy."  
  
"Yes, he is." Karen skritched the cat, and then she skritched Sören's beard. "And the cat is good too."  
  
Sören snickered, appreciating the attempt at humor. He didn't want Karen to affect false cheer for his sake - he understood very much what it was like to be a wreck through personal tragedy, remembering the way he'd fallen apart at his sister's death, another statistic of a murdered trans woman - but he also knew what it was like to use humor as a coping mechanism, and he did love those little affectionate moments between them.  
  
"You guys are so gross," Ben teased, smiling through his tears. Sören reached over and gave Ben a noogie.  
  
Karen sighed. Geir handed her a box of tissues and Karen attempted to wipe her tears, still crying a little, and then she wiped at Ben's face too, which made Sören smile.  
  
"OK." Karen exhaled sharply. "Mum says she's going to call as soon as she knows anything more. Which may mean calling at an odd hour. My phone will be on. There's really nothing I can do."  
  
"We could go to Sheffield and try to see her," Ben said.  
  
"We could," Karen said, "but I'd have to call off work on very short notice, which they won't be happy about, and I do need this job. And there's fewer transportation options available overnight. And by the time we got up there..." Karen didn't need to say "it might be too late".  
  
"Fuck," Ben said again, looking almost angry.  
  
"Karen's right," Sören said. "I know that waiting is the hardest part, but that's all you can do."  
  
"As soon as you know anything... you'll call me, right?" Ben narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't matter what time of night it is. Pierre will understand once I tell him -"  
  
"I'll call you," Karen said, patting him.  
  
"Call me too," Sören said.  
  
"What if it's on your shift?" Karen gave him a stern look. "I don't want you to be interrupted in the middle of surgery -"  
  
"If it's while I'm at work, send a text," Sören said. "I'll call or text back as soon as I'm able to."  
  
Karen nodded and rubbed her face, looking like a disgruntled wet cat. Sören pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head as he gave her a little squeeze.  
  
"Do you want to spend the night?" Sören asked, concerned, not wanting her to be alone, up all night, crying. Then, realizing how that could be taken, he quickly added, "I don't mean for, you know, that, I'm not expecting that at a time like this. I just mean to hold you, to make sure you're all right. I'm sure Nick won't mind at all, once he knows -"  
  
Karen shook her head. "It's not that I mind you holding me, but I really don't want to impose on him, and..." Karen looked at Geir, and Geir nodded, rubbing her shoulders. "I won't be alone."  
  
Sören felt like an idiot; of course he should have realized that. Karen and Geir did a lot of platonic cuddling, and sometimes even slept in the same bed together, just to snuggle. In some ways, Sören thought Geir was Karen's primary partner, though it wasn't romantic or sexual with them. Even after close to a year of seeing how they were with each other, Sören still found himself surprised from time to time how intimate they were. But he was fine with it, and especially right now - he didn't want Karen to be alone, whether it was his company or Geir's.  
  
"Take good care of her," Sören said.  
  
"I will," Geir said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He looked at the clock and then he gently shook Karen. "We should probably get going soon."  
  
"Yeah." Karen looked down and sighed.  
  
"Same here." Ben swallowed.  
  
When they got up from the bed, Sören hugged them both again. He didn't want them to leave just yet but he also knew they needed space to process everything, and would need extra time to decompress at home before getting some rest; Monday would be here soon enough.  
  
Sören, too, felt exhausted, the weight of the world on his shoulders. His healer instincts were screaming at him, but he knew now all he could do was wait, and be there for them when they needed him. He wanted so badly to fix things; the most frustrating feeling in the world was not being able to.  
  
_  
  
  
Despite the comfort and strength of Nicholas, and cuddling in his arms, Sören didn't sleep well that night. He was overtired when he got to work, and compensated with lots of coffee. It helped him get through a carotid endarterectomy, followed by a ventriculo-peritoneal shunt. Halfway through the shunt procedure, his phone vibrated, and Sören's heart skipped a beat. But he made himself focus, and got through the surgery without issue.  
  
As soon as he scrubbed out and headed for the break room, he checked his phone. There was a text message from Karen that said, simply: _She's gone._  
  
Sören hit Karen's number on speed dial. Karen answered after one ring. "Hello."  
  
" _Elskan._ " Sören's own eyes brimmed with tears, hurting for her. "I called as soon as I could -"  
  
"Oh god, Sören." Karen fell apart on the other end, and Sören wished he could take off immediately and go to her, but he still had consults and evaluations.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Karen."  
  
"Yeah." Karen sniffled. "I wish it wasn't so sudden. I wish I'd had time to see her one last time..."  
  
That tore at Sören's heart again. He knew that for many people, it was always sudden, never knowing that the last time they saw someone they loved would in fact be the last time. Sören swallowed hard, thinking of Anthony's accident, and feeling that brief twinge of anxiety that he felt about Nicholas whenever the topic of mortality came up. Then his thoughts turned back to Karen, once again feeling powerless, wishing there was something he could say or do to make it better. All he could do was be there. "Are you at work? Home?"  
  
"I'm at home. I asked to go home early because I couldn't..."  
  
"Of course. Dealing with the public is difficult enough, never mind a death in the family."  
  
"I'm taking tomorrow off, then I'm going back on Wednesday. I do need the money."  
  
Sören hated that, wishing people could live in a world where they didn't have to sacrifice their mental health to keep a roof over their heads. "How's your family holding up?"  
  
"Dad's a wreck. Ben's not good. Mum is trying to be calm but, she loved her mother-in-law too." Karen sighed. "The wake's on Saturday. Ben and I are going to Sheffield on Friday evening as soon as I get off work. Pierre is coming with Ben for moral support."  
  
"I'd like to come with you for moral support," Sören said.  
  
"You work this weekend, don't you?"  
  
"I'll tell Ed it's a family emergency." Sören knew that Ed wouldn't be best pleased, but he would get the time off without too much incident. "That's not really a lie. You are family."  
  
"Thank you, Sören. I wouldn't want to impose, but -"  
  
"You're my partner. It's not imposing. I know you'd do the same for me if the situation was reversed."  
  
"I would. And... thank you, again. That... that means a lot, that you want to come with me -"  
  
"Of course." Sören took a deep breath. "Are you alone right now? Geir's at practice still, já?"  
  
"Yeah, he is."  
  
"Let Toby keep you company till Nick gets home from work. Let us feed you, so you don't have the added stress of cooking." Sören knew Karen liked cooking, and baking, but he also knew that in times like this even something enjoyable could be one more added stress.  
  
"All right. I'll see you when you get home."  
  
"Love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
Sören frowned as he put his phone back in his pocket. He wasn't looking forward to requesting the time off on such short notice, and he knew he was going to have to make up for it the next time someone else called out. But he would do it for any of his partners.  
  
And it was one of the very few things he _could_ do. "Dammit," Sören said. He felt like punching a wall. He wasn't angry with Karen, he was angry with life. Angry with a world that was sometimes cruel to the people he loved.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When Sören got home, Karen was having tea with Nicholas. Sören hugged both of them.  
  
Sören had texted Nicholas to let him know he was going to Sheffield with Karen this weekend for the wake. Sören felt a little guilty that he didn't ask first, he was informing Nicholas after the decision had been made, but he also had a feeling Nicholas would understand and not be upset, and sure enough Nicholas had replied: _If you hadn't already said you were accompanying her to the wake, I would have suggested that you should._  
  
Sören loved Nicholas fiercely, and he was determined to spoil Nicholas once the weekend was over, to show him how much.  
  
Sören felt a surge of love for Nicholas all over again as he saw Nicholas in father mode, holding Karen, letting her cry on him, making little soothing noises. While Sören hated seeing Karen in so much pain, he couldn't help but think Nicholas was incredibly _sexy_ when he was like this, allowing himself to show warmth, protectiveness and caring.  
  
 _That's my daddy._ Heat flooded Sören's face and he bit his lower lip.  
  
"The arrangements are all made for Sheffield," Karen said. "I ordered your train ticket, and we have a room booked at a local hotel. Ben and Pierre are staying in the same place."  
  
"I'll reimburse you for the ticket," Sören said, "and I don't mind paying for the hotel room, or going half. Though... you're not staying with your parents?"  
  
Karen guffawed and shook her head. "It's better for everyone's mental health that we stay in a hotel. I love my parents and I wouldn't classify my relationship with them as bad at all, but my mum can be a bit overbearing."  
  
"Ah, OK. I was just curious." He knew if it was Elaine, she'd be insisting they stay there, but of course, he knew it wasn't fair to compare everyone's parents to Elaine. His own guardians certainly hadn't been like her.  
  
"Actually, on that note, there's something I want to talk to you about." Karen gave Nicholas an apologetic look before her gaze turned back to Sören. "In private. Can we go upstairs?"  
  
"You may," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören shot him a look, though he found the grammar correction endearing. Even with sudden catastrophes, Nicholas being Nicholas was a constant, and Sören found it strangely comforting. He followed Karen upstairs to the guest bedroom, feeling apprehensive. He was used to "we need to talk" being a bad thing.  
  
Karen sat on the edge of the guest bed and Sören sat in a nearby armchair, heart racing.  
  
"So, you're finally going to meet my parents," Karen said.  
  
Sören nodded. He'd wondered when this day would come - or if. While they were in a committed relationship, it was also open and relaxed enough that Sören hadn't been expecting to meet her parents the way it was inevitable to meet Anthony's when things got serious, as they had escalated rather quickly. Sören had only heard bits and pieces about Karen's parents, not enough to form a full mental image.  
  
"I haven't told them anything about you. You coming with me to the wake is going to be a bit of a surprise for them."  
  
Sören nodded again.  
  
"If you're wondering why I haven't told them about you, it's because I try not to get too in-depth when I talk to them. My mum is still convinced Geir is a serial killer." Karen gave a nervous little laugh.  
  
"He kills eggs, not cereal." Sören couldn't resist the bad pun.  
  
Karen facepalmed, laughing harder, and then she quickly sobered. "Anyway... my parents don't even know that I'm seeing someone, and that's why I need to talk to you."  
  
Sören's eyes widened. "We have to pretend to be just friends?"  
  
"No, _no._ " Karen shook her head. "But... Sören, I need to ask you a favor." Karen bit her lip, looking as anxious as Sören had ever seen her.  
  
Sören cocked his head to one side and made a "go ahead" gesture, feeling his own anxiety rising.  
  
"OK." Karen looked down, then looked up, and folded her hands. "Please, _please_ don't think that I'm ashamed of you, or think that there's anything wrong with your bisexuality, or the arrangement we're in -"  
  
"But." Sören folded his arms and braced himself, knowing he was going to hate whatever came out of her mouth next.  
  
"But." Karen looked down again, and there was a long pause before she looked back up, meeting his eyes. "I don't want you to feel like you have to lie, but I'm not comfortable having a discussion with my parents about us being in an open relationship right now. I'm not going to make it out to be more than it is - they know I'm living with Geir, I'm not going to make up stories about us living together and getting married. But I also don't want to have to explain the full story of why we're not."  
  
"OK." That was a little better than Sören had hoped. He still didn't like it, as it still felt somewhat like being in the closet and potentially having to lie at least by omission, but he also understood that her grandmother's wake was probably not an appropriate time to drop a bombshell about their very postmodern relationship. Sören put a hand on his hip then, wondering about Ben, who was bringing Pierre. "Your family... knows... Ben is gay."  
  
"They do," Karen said. "But it's one thing for them to accept Ben and Pierre are gay and in a committed relationship, and another thing for them to wrap their heads around the fact that my boyfriend is bi and has several other partners, which is not something I think they'll take well, or at least not without some faux pas and awkward moments that nobody needs right now. Ben and Pierre aren't quite monogamous, but they also aren't advertising that with our family, nor do I really think they need to in the situation Pierre's in with Geir."  
  
Sören nodded. There was a lot of stigma about male bisexuality, he'd learned over the years, and it got tiresome to deal with, but again he understood that Karen was trying to avoid an uncomfortable situation with her family during what was already a trying time. "All right. I'll... follow your lead, I guess."  
  
"Thank you. Like I said, I don't want you to have to lie or feel like I'm forcing you into the closet, so if they ask you direct questions, that's one thing. But I don't think they're going to pry too deeply about your living situation and I plan on fending off any questions about marriage or the like." Karen reached out for Sören's hands then, and Sören grabbed her hands, rose from the armchair, sat down next to her on the bed, and gave her a tight hug. He knew this wasn't easy for her, any of it, and he needed to show support rather than be bristly about something that wasn't really her fault.  
  
Sören kissed Karen's cheek. "We'll get through it."  
  
Karen gave him a sad little smile and kissed the tip of his nose. "I really appreciate you, you know."  
  
Sören pulled her close. Then Nicholas called from downstairs: "Dinner's ready."  
  
Tobias meowed from the bottom step, as if he were also calling them. Karen managed a chuckle at that, and now Sören rose and helped pull her from the edge of the bed, an arm around her as they walked down the hall to the staircase.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören was taking Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. After a long shift on Thursday he slept late on Friday, and was emerging fresh from the shower when Nicholas got home from campus. They held each other for a long time - even two days apart was too much - and Sören felt flustered and somewhat aroused when they finally pulled back, cursing himself for getting worked up at the worst possible time for it.  
  
After Sören got dressed and did a last-minute double-check of his luggage, Nicholas walked Sören over to Karen and Geir's flat, and though Sören was perfectly capable of doing so, Nicholas still insisted on wheeling Sören's luggage for him, like an old-fashioned gentleman. It was raining a little; Sören didn't mind being rained on, but Nicholas had an umbrella, and it felt cozy and romantic, sharing the umbrella with Nicholas, strolling in the rain. It would have been the perfect prelude to a sensual evening at home, finger-feeding each other, taking a shower together, massaging each other before slow, languid lovemaking. Sören sighed and leaned in to nuzzle Nicholas's beard.  
  
"I'll miss you," Sören husked.  
  
"I'll miss you too, darling." Nicholas gave Sören a little kiss. "But Karen needs you, and you're a good man for being there for her." Nicholas's dark eyes were tender, then full of teasing mirth. "Do try to stay out of trouble now."  
  
Sören smirked. "Not much trouble I could get into with a funeral."  
  
"Oh, if anyone could manage to get into trouble at a funeral, it would be you."  
  
Sören snickered. "That almost sounds like a challenge. _Almost._ "  
  
A cab was meeting them at the building, and shortly after Karen came out and Sören and Nicholas said their goodbyes, the cab pulled up. Sören and Karen got in the back seat and Karen rested her head on his shoulder as the cab made its way to the train station. She wasn't crying - Sören got the sense she was all cried out - but she was noticeably sad. Sören put an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder and hair as the cab drove through the rain.  
  
It was raining harder when they got to the train station. Sören waved as he saw Ben and Pierre, who waved back. Sören and Karen made a beeline for them and they huddled together as they waited for their train.  
  
A man was smoking a cigarette a few meters away; Sören recognized the smell even before he saw the smoking. He wanted to retch, and his lungs felt a tickle. Karen glared at the man, who didn't look at them, and then she looked down with a sigh.  
  
"I almost want one," Karen said.  
  
"A cigarette?" Sören made a face.  
  
Karen nodded. "I used to smoke, but I quit." She chuckled. "I quit because of Craig, actually."  
  
"You better not start that shit again," Ben said, giving Karen a filthy look. "I know you're stressed out, but..."  
  
"I won't," Karen said.  
  
"It says something about your stress level that you would be craving one," Pierre said, giving her a sympathetic pat. "Here." He reached in his pocket and produced a small tin of mints. "Suck on this instead."  
  
Sören snorted, not able to help it - he knew Pierre was offering a mint, but of course his mind went there. Karen gave Sören a playful swat as she took a mint, and then she shoved a mint in his mouth before putting one in hers. "You are _incorrigible_ ," Karen said.  
  
Ben was bright red, looking amused and horrified all at once. Pierre shook with silent laughter that became less silent as he put a mint in his mouth and he and Ben exchanged guilty glances. Then Sören's mind went further into the gutter, as he thought about Geir sucking Pierre's cock - and vice versa - and he decided he liked that mental image. He also liked the mental image of Geir, Anthony, and Pierre having a threesome. Or joining in and making it a foursome.  
  
 _You have enough partners. You don't need to add Pierre, too._  
  
Sören and Pierre's eyes met for a moment and Sören sucked harder on the mint, trying to get his mind elsewhere. Karen was still laughing, and when she looked at Sören she turned beetroot and shook her head, laughing even harder. " _God_ , Sören."  
  
"Sorry," Sören said, but he wasn't sorry at all.  
  
" _Vous avez un esprit sale. Je l'aime._ " Pierre smirked.  
  
"What?" Sören's face burned, his heart racing a little faster at the sound of Pierre speaking French. It was bad enough he found Pierre sexy, Pierre didn't need to add French to it and make it worse.  
  
"I said I hope the train gets here soon," Pierre said, looking in the general direction of the platform.  
  
"That's not what you said," Sören said; he didn't speak French but he knew that wasn't it.  
  
"No, it's not. I said I like that you have a filthy mind." Pierre grinned. "Ben and I aren't such perverts now."  
  
"Me? Pervert?" Ben batted his eyes innocently.  
  
" _Ouais, tu es._ " Pierre wrapped his arms around Ben's waist and gave him a squeeze.  
  
"It doesn't help that everything you say in French sounds like you're talking about sex, even when you're not," Ben said.  
  
Sören's breath hitched, thinking of the occasions when Nicholas spoke French to him. "It's a beautiful language," Sören said. He thought about Anthony using Duolingo. "I should learn it." _Anthony and I can be Duolingo buddies._  
  
"You should," Pierre said. "You already speak... two languages?"  
  
"Three," Sören said. " _Jeg taler dansk som et tredje sprog. Jeg lærte det i skolen._ "  
  
"If you know three languages already, it shouldn't be so hard to learn a fourth. And you have people you can practice French with."  
  
"I'll think about it," Sören said, though he was leaning towards yes. "It's a bit of a time commitment."  
  
"I could help," Pierre said.  
  
 _Yes, and that would be too tempting._ Their eyes met again, and just then their train pulled in. Sören was relieved; his face was on fire, and he really didn't want to have a crush on Pierre. It also seemed to be bad taste to be borderline-flirting with the boyfriend of someone whose grandmother just died, in front of his girlfriend dealing with the same.  
  
Karen tried to read on the train ride, while Sören zoned out to music on his headphones... or at least tried to zone out. He kept glancing over at Karen to make sure she was holding up OK, and halfway into the trip he put an arm around her and kissed her forehead, and she smiled and gave him a little kiss back. Sören looked out the window at the night and the pouring rain and he exhaled. He wasn't just worried about Karen, but he realized he was very, very nervous about meeting Karen's family. Even though they'd only be in Sheffield into the early afternoon on Sunday, not a lot of time to spend, Sören knew that still meant things could go wrong. Knowing he was about to meet people who would probably not approve of his bisexuality if uncovered made him feel more anxious than he would otherwise, and he was wondering if he should have volunteered to come along at all, if maybe Geir should have gone in his place. But he felt it was important to be here for Karen, and when their eyes met and Karen gave him a genuine smile, despite her pain, Sören knew it was worth it. He would move mountains for the people he loved, if he could.  
  
At the train station in Sheffield they were met by two women: one who looked to be Elaine's age or slightly younger, and a woman who looked to be in her mid to late forties. The older woman had her grey hair in a loose, messy bun, and was wearing a navy wool peacoat over a charcoal grey sweater and black slacks. The fortysomething woman had long brown hair that was just starting to go grey and was wearing a black wool trenchcoat over a plum sweater and jeans; she had two small children in tow, a boy and a girl. The older woman went right to Karen and hugged her tight.  
  
"Mum," Karen said.  
  
The woman's eyes met Sören's, and when they pulled back, the woman said, "You're not Geir."  
  
"No," Sören said. He put out his hand.  
  
"Mum, that's Sören. Sören, this is my mother, Renata."  
  
Renata politely took Sören's hand, and Karen put an arm around Sören, equal parts demonstraton and reassurance. "Sören and I are seeing each other, he's come with me for moral support," Karen explained.  
  
"Ah. Well then, it's nice to meet you." Renata smiled.  
  
"Likewise. You raised a lovely daughter." Sören smiled back.  
  
Renata's smile became more genuine, which put Sören at ease just slightly. Then Karen introduced the other woman. "Sören, Pierre, this is our aunt Lucia, and Lucia's twins, Tommy and Tina. Lucia, that's my boyfriend Sören, and Ben's boyfriend Pierre."  
  
Sören thought it was a bit odd that a woman Lucia's age had two small children, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing it would be rude to say anything about it. "How do you do," Lucia said, shaking both Sören's hand and Pierre's hand.  
  
"Hi Aunt Lu," Ben said, giving her a hug, then tousling the twins' hair.  
  
"Hi!" Tommy yelled, waving at the new people. "Hi! Hi!"  
  
"You have pretty hair," Tina said, looking at Pierre's braids. Then she looked at Sören. "So do you."  
  
Lucia facepalmed and chuckled. "Please don't mind her -"  
  
"It's quite all right," Pierre said. "Thank you," he said to Tina. "You also have pretty hair."  
  
Tina's face lit up and she curtsied like a little princess. Sören grinned, and he couldn't resist booping Tina's nose.  
  
"All right," Renata said. "We came to take you to the hotel, so you wouldn't have to wait for a cab in this weather..."  
  
"Thank you again, Mum, we appreciate it," Karen said, and Sören nodded.  
  
Karen and Sören followed Renata, while Ben and Pierre followed Lucia, Tommy and Tina. Tommy splashed in every puddle on the way to the car, while Tina skipped, singing loudly. Sören was amused by their antics, while Renata had a disapproving look on her face as they got in Renata's car. Sören watched Ben, Pierre and the twins pile into Lucia's minivan.  
  
"Those children are going to grow up to be savages," Renata said dryly.  
  
"Oh, Mum. It's not _that_ bad," Karen said. Karen explained to Sören, “Lucia is my father's sister. She came out to get us instead of Dad... Dad's taking this hard, I know." Karen sighed.  
  
"She was a wonderful mother to her children. And it was so unexpected. We knew Anna was getting older, of course, but we thought she'd live awhile longer yet."  
  
Sören felt another prickle of anxiety, thinking about Nicholas getting on in years, though he would be turning sixty-seven in December and that wasn't as old as it used to be. Sören pulled out his phone; he'd promised he'd call or text once he got to Sheffield, and he decided to text now, not wanting to be rude while Renata was driving.  
  
 _We're here,_ Sören typed.  
  
A few minutes later Nicholas replied: _Good. I'm glad you made it safely. I love you._  
  
 _I love you too._ Sören sent several heart emojis.  
  
Sören had also promised to text Anthony - though Sören got the feeling Geir would be keeping him occupied this weekend. After he replied to Nicholas, he fired off a text to Anthony. _I'm in Sheffield._  
  
A moment later Anthony replied, _Hi In Sheffield._  
  
Sören sent back a poop emoji and a knife emoji.  
  
Anthony sent back a stuck-out-tongue emoji. _You need the comic relief right now._  
  
Sören sighed. _Yeah. I hate this. I'm a doctor, I just want to fix things for people, and I can't. I play God and cheat death every day in the operating room and I can't bring back Karen's grandmother. It makes me angry._  
  
Sören knew that of all people Anthony would understand - as a lawyer, Anthony was also used to being an instrument of fate, using his powers of argument to try to free the innocent or persuade less severe sentences for those who were not evil, merely misguided. And Anthony understood well enough to defuse the frustration - something Sören didn't want to carry so strongly right now, not wanting to stress out Karen or her family; Anthony replied a couple of minutes later with a picture, and the sentence _This is you._

Sören tried not to laugh aloud, and once again felt that longing ache, missing the way they used to banter. He sent an attachment right back, from the folder of reaction pics he had on his phone; there was one he'd been reserving for Anthony for awhile now.

_This is you._   
  


Anthony sent back a middle finger emoji next to a heart emoji.  
  
Sören replied with a halo emoji and a heart emoji.  
  
Finally Anthony texted: _OK. Goodnight. Thanks for letting me know you got there safely. Tell Karen I said hello?_  
  
 _I will. Goodnight._ Sören had to stop himself from appending the "goodnight" with _elskan_. He sighed as he put the phone back in his pocket.  
  
Renata and Karen were silent while Sören was texting - Sören got the sense Renata knew Karen needed some quiet space. But finally, Renata's voice cut in. "Have both of you eaten? I can take you to a restaurant if not -"  
  
Karen and Sören looked at each other. Sören was hungry, but he didn't want to deal with crowds of people after having been on the train and he got the sense Karen didn't either. "We were going to get room service at the hotel room," Karen said.  
  
"All right. Karen, have you told Sören that we're having dinner out tomorrow night? There's a new steakhouse in town, and -"  
  
"Oh, that sounds lovely," Sören said. "I like a good steak."  
  
"Good," Renata said. "We didn't know Karen was bringing anyone, or we assumed she'd have brought Geir, but we'd be happy to treat you -"  
  
"There's no need," Sören said. "I can pay."  
  
"Only if you insist."  
  
"I do," Sören said, feeling uncomfortable with strangers paying for him, even if they were the family of someone he considered family.  
  
"We look forward to seeing you there. We can get to know you a little better."  
  
 _Oh shit._ Sören gave a tight smile in the rear view mirror.  
  
Renata dropped Sören and Karen off at the hotel, seeming a bit reluctant to let them go. Karen and Sören dashed in - the rain was really coming down now - and they were just in time to see Ben and Pierre check in. They had rooms on the same floor, so Ben and Pierre waited for them to check in and then they all took the lift together. Sören's usual anxiety about elevators was intensified by the thought of being around unfamiliar people so much tomorrow, but he looked over at Karen - he was doing this for her - and she put an arm around him and leaned on him.  
  
"Thank you, again," Karen whispered.  
  
Sören tousled her hair and kissed the top of her head.  
  
Their hotel was neither rundown nor exceedingly posh. Their room had a single king-sized bed, and an open-plan living room area with a couch and an armchair around a flat-screen TV and stereo. There was a kitchenette with a mini-refrigerator, a microwave and a cabinet of sample size bottles of assorted liquors near the bathroom, which was done in relaxing soft blues with a simple shower-inside-a-tub, and a toilet. A phone was next to the bed - Sören was so used to everyone using cell phones nowadays that the large cordless phone seemed downright anachronistic - and there was a menu for the hotel's eatery and room service prices near the phone. Karen immediately began changing into a set of silky cream pajamas, while Sören sat on the bed and looked at the menu, both because he was hungry and also to distract himself from Karen getting naked; he thought now was probably a bad time to get horny and try to start anything.  
  
When Karen was changed she sat next to Sören on the bed and peered at the menu with him. They went with fish and chips, which was fairly straightforward. "Ben is probably ordering that too," Karen said as she picked up the phone to place the call for room service.  
  
Sören went into the bathroom to change, even though Karen had seen him in his underwear, and less than that, before - again, he felt a strange sense of modesty, like now was the wrong time for ogling or being ogled. He came out in a grey T-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, and his bunny slippers. Karen smiled at the bunny slippers.  
  
They put on the television while they waited for room service to arrive. _BBC Children In Need_ was on with Rod Stewart, Ellie Goulding, and others performing. Sören smiled at Rod Stewart, feeling nostalgia for the little amount of time his mother had been in his life - she was always listening to music from the 1970s, when she grew up. And not just listening.  
  
Sören sighed. Karen rubbed his knee. "You OK?" she asked.  
  
"Oh... jæja, I'm fine." Sören smiled. "I just feel a bit wistful, is all. My mamma loved Rod Stewart, and other music from that era like ELO, Fleetwood Mac, that sort of thing. And she used to sing to us."  
  
Karen smiled back, a sad smile. "My grandmother practically raised me and Ben, and she sang a lot to us as well. She also taught me to play the piano, and then I taught Ben to play the piano."  
  
"And look at him now." Sören hugged her.  
  
Karen's jaw trembled and she blinked back tears. "Shit. I don't want to start crying again when room service will be here any minute..."  
  
"There's no shame in crying, Karen."  
  
"No, but I don't want to make a scene, or make them think something's wrong..."  
  
Sören pulled Karen close and began to sing along with Rod Stewart, not thinking, just acting.  
  
 _You're in my heart, you're in my soul  
You'll be my breath should I grow old  
You are my lover, you're my best friend  
You're in my soul  
  
My love for you is immeasurable  
My respect for you immense  
You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness  
You're beauty and elegance  
  
You're a rhapsody, a comedy  
You're a symphony and a play  
You're every love song ever written  
But honey what do you see in me_  
  
Karen's tears became giggles, and she kissed the tip of his nose. Before Sören could grab her and kiss her, there was a knock on the door. "Room service," came a male voice.  
  
Sören got up and answered it, paying the busboy and giving a generous tip. Then the busboy said, "You've got a great voice, by the way! You should do Eurovision!"  
  
Sören tried not to double over as he brought the tray into the room. Karen grinned. "Well, you do," she said.  
  
Sören's face burned. "I don't sing _that_ well."  
  
"Neither do some of the Eurovision contestants."  
  
Sören was glad he was sitting down when Karen said that. Now Sören shook with laughter. Karen uncovered their food dishes and shoved a chip in his mouth.  
  
They continued to watch the telethon as they ate, and Sören thought about how suddenly his mamma went, and now he started to feel vague anxiety as he thought about his brother Dag and his cousin Ari. And for the first time in years, he found himself thinking about his other paternal cousin, who he hadn't seen since he was a small child - Sigrit, the daughter of his father Sigurd's youngest brother Erick. Sigrit and her parents had moved to Húsavík, which was about an hour from Akureyri by car, but Katrin and Einar had never wanted to see Erick and his family, and then once Sören was old enough he had gotten busy with school and his career and he felt awkward about trying to catch up, worried that Sigrit would be angry he hadn't gotten in touch before now.  
  
Sören's thoughts were with his family enough that when their meal was finished, Sören sent off quick e-mails to Dag and to Ari to say hi and let them know he was thinking of them. He thought about looking up Sigrit on the Internet, but stopped himself, and then Karen wanted to snuggle.  
  
They'd both had a long day, and Sören began to brush Karen's hair, then gave her a scalp massage, followed by a foot rub, to help relax her. He wasn't looking for sex, he just wanted to comfort and soothe her with his touch. She melted against him as he worked on her back. "That's nice," she murmured; her voice was thick and sleepy.  
  
Sören smiled, turned off the TV, turned down the bed, and turned off the light. He held Karen and continued to rub her back. Her breathing slowed and Sören was sure she was asleep, and then Karen asked, "Sören?"  
  
"Jæja?"  
  
"Will you sing to me?"  
  
Sören began to sing what his mother had sung as a lullaby long ago, her favorite song, an old Led Zeppelin number.  
  
 _There's a lady who's sure  
All that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to Heaven  
When she gets there she knows  
If the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for  
Oh oh oh oh and she's buying a stairway to Heaven  
  
There's a sign on the wall  
But she wants to be sure  
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings  
In a tree by the brook  
There's a songbird who sings  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving  
  
Ooh, it makes me wonder  
Ooh, it makes me wonder..._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Despite Sören's worry about Karen, his exhaustion from not having slept well the night before caught up with him and he slept soundly - a little too soundly, the blare of the alarm waking him up rather than Karen herself, who was already awake, freshly showered, wearing a bathrobe, her hair in a towel.  
  
The funeral was being held at 10 AM, and it was already eight AM. Sören grumbled as he sat up and stretched, grumbling a little less when Karen brought him coffee. A short while later, Sören took a shower, and then it was time to change.  
  
Sören had brought a suit for the funeral - the charcoal grey Armani suit he'd bought in the waning months of his relationship with Anthony. It wasn't black, but it would have to do.  
  
Karen wasn't wearing black either, but a very dark blue wool dress. "I thought black would be too depressing," Karen said, when she caught Sören looking at her. "Also, my grandmother was with me when I bought this, so it reminds me of her."  
  
"Awwwww." Sören smiled fondly. "Well, you look beautiful."  
  
Karen laughed. "Thank you, but I'm not too concerned with that right now. I feel about as sexy as an old shoe, with everything going on."  
  
Sören had to. "Some people find old shoes sexy. They have a fetish."  
  
Karen collapsed onto the bed, shaking, giggling madly. She threw a pillow at Sören, who caught it. "Dammit, Sören..."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You're not sorry." Karen smirked.  
  
"No, not really." Then Sören smirked too. "I don't have a fetish for old shoes or anything, but, you know, I still think you look sexy."  
  
"That's the weirdest way I've ever heard someone deliver a compliment."  
  
"It can get weirder." Sören's smirk became a grin. "What's that the American soldiers say? Hubba hubba."  
  
Karen lost it again, giggling and snorting. "It's not 'hooba hooba', it's hubba hubba." She spluttered.  
  
"OK. Well, it's 'hooba hooba' now."  
  
Karen snorted again, and threw another pillow at him. Sören dodged but it hit him in the ass, and Sören gave an exaggerated moan that made Karen splutter some more.  
  
Sören waited as Karen fixed her hair into a chignon and applied a light amount of makeup - Sören noticed Karen was avoiding eye makeup, which he thought was wise - and then they headed down together to the cafe in the hotel to have breakfast together.  
  
"I don't really have an appetite," Karen admitted, picking at a crumpet, "but I don't want my stomach to start growling during the service. That might be disruptive."  
  
"Yes, but not as disruptive as farting."  
  
Karen facepalmed, giggling again, and then she kicked him under the table. "Sören, I swear..."  
  
"See, I'm moral support!" Sören gave the thumbs up with a cheesy grin, before he tore into his toast. Karen kicked him under the table again.  
  
Despite the silliness of the morning, Sören and Karen were completely sober as Renata and Carl drove them to the Anglican church where Anna's funeral was being held. Carl was tall, grey, and blue-eyed, his eyes rimmed red from crying, but he managed to keep a stiff upper lip on the ride to the funeral. He was also silent, enough so that Sören felt like it would be rude to try to make small talk and get to know Karen's parents.  
  
The service was pleasant enough for what it was. Sören was deeply uncomfortable with churches and organized religion, but he managed to tolerate it out of a show of respect for Karen's family. The choir sang a hymn, and then different people were asked to say a few words about Anna: her children Carl and Lucia, a neighbor and friend named Mae, and at last Ben himself, who gave a small speech about Anna's hand in his upbringing and her love of music, which had influenced Karen which had in turn influenced him. The choir closed with another hymn, and then it was time for those who wanted to do so, to view the body to pay respects.  
  
Karen kept composed through the entire service, but after she saw the body in the casket she had to walk out, in tears. Sören followed her outside and put a hand on her shoulder as she took deep, gasping breaths, tears silently flooding her cheeks, shaking with unvoiced sobs. It had stopped raining and the sky was appropriately a dreary grey, with fog.  
  
Carl came out a few minutes later and he and Karen just looked at each other for a minute and then they hugged each other tight, crying together. Tears came to Sören's own eyes - he knew what it took for a British man of Carl and Roger's generation to cry - and he found himself hugging the both of them. Carl patted him.  
  
When they pulled apart, Carl said to Karen, "I've got something for you."  
  
"Oh?" Karen's eyebrows went up.  
  
"You're probably wondering why she wasn't wearing her locket in the casket, the one she wore every day, that had a photo of your grandfather in it."  
  
"Oh god, I didn't even notice." Karen wiped her eyes. "I just got a quick look and left, I couldn't take it -"  
  
Carl pulled the locket out of his pocket. He walked over to Karen and clasped it around her neck. It was rose gold and set with a genuine pearl as the center of an embossed flower design, with a fine laced edge around the oval box.  
  
Karen touched the locket and cried a little harder, but she smiled through her tears.  
  
"She would have wanted you to have it," Carl said softly. "Something to remember her by."  
  
"I could never forget her," Karen said, her fingers wrapping around the locket now, "but this is... a piece of her."  
  
Carl nodded. "You'll be getting more once her estate is read." Carl chuckled softly. "Ben's getting her piano, though I don't know where he'll put it."  
  
Karen gasped and clasped her hands together, looking delighted. "He'll be thrilled. But yes, he doesn't currently have space at the moment..." She pursed her lips. "More incentive for him and Pierre to get their own place, I guess."  
  
After the funeral, there was a small get-together at Carl and Renata's house with the family and a few of Anna's friends and neighbors. There was coffee, tea, and hors d'oeuvres - Lucia had seen to getting some things from the store, and Anna's neighbors generously brought snacks and desserts. Sören's discomfort intensified even more than it had been at the church, feeling like he was intruding, he didn't know these people, feeling like a fifth wheel. But Karen looked just as uncomfortable as he felt, and about a half-hour into the gathering, after Renata ducked into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee, Karen followed her. Sören overheard Karen asking, "Can I borrow your car? I need to get out for a bit, clear my head, I don't want to fall apart in front of everyone."  
  
"Certainly," Renata said.  
  
Karen came out with car keys. Sören didn't even know Karen could drive, but then, he hadn't known Nicholas could drive either. Karen made a gesture for Sören to follow. As they walked out the door Ben and Pierre rushed up.  
  
"Hey, you mind if we tag along?" Ben asked.  
  
"No," Karen said.  
  
They piled into Renata's Vauxhall - Karen in the driver's seat and Sören in the passenger's seat, Ben and Pierre in back. Karen saw Sören watching with surprise as she started the car and Karen said, "Yes, I can drive. It's easier not to have a car in central London, but when I lived up here, and I was staying in St. Andrews for a bit, I drove everywhere."  
  
"You miss it?" Sören looked out the window at the tree-lined neighborhood and picturesque houses, a far cry from the urban landscape of London.  
  
"Sometimes," Karen said, nodding. "I don't think I'd come back, though. Or at least not anytime soon."  
  
"I miss it too," Ben said. "It would be a pain in the arse to commute for theatre practice, and performances."  
  
"Rent would certainly be cheaper, though," Karen said.  
  
"Yeah, we've got to get a jump on that. I assume someone, like your dad, told you I'm getting the piano?"  
  
"He did." Karen nodded. "I'm glad. If it had gone to me I would have insisted you have it."  
  
"I feel almost like maybe I shouldn't. I hope I don't cry every time I look at it," Ben said.  
  
"I won't give you platitudes about the afterlife and seeing her again and all of that," Sören said, feeling like he should say something. "But when you play that piano, it's a way of keeping her alive here." He put his hand on his heart.  
  
Ben reached over and put a hand on Sören's shoulder. "Thanks."  
  
They rode in companionable silence; Sören wondered where they were going and felt like asking, but he decided not to. Then it became apparent, as the car approached a nature reserve.  
  
"I had a feeling you were coming here," Ben said.  
  
Karen nodded.  
  
The park was seemingly endless moor. There was a stark beauty with the moorland after the rains, under the grey sky, with swirling silver mists. Karen took Sören's hand as they walked through the moor together, and every now and again they would pause, taking in the landscape. Even though everything was out in the open, no hidden forests, there was still a sense of wildness... a melancholy, haunted feeling.  
  
"I used to come here a lot when I was younger," Karen said, folding her arms, looking around, loose strands of hair stirring in the breeze. "When I was feeling sad or misunderstood I'd walk around and feel like I was in a Brontë novel. Sit and listen to Joy Division." She gave a wry smile.  
  
Sören smiled too, putting an arm around her waist. He had been wearing a Joy Division T-shirt when they'd first met; they had bonded over that and other things. "When I was a teenager I used to escape into nature a lot, too. Akureyri is very hilly and sometimes I'd just climb a hill and sit on top of the hill and look out at the world. Or I'd go out to the sea at the fjord and watch the waves. When I started to drive I went to the Goðafoss." Sören gestured at the land around them. "It's very different here, but you're right, this is like something out of a Brontë book. I can see how it inspired them."  
  
Looking at Karen in her dress, with the old-fashioned locket around her neck, her chignon, a few loose wisps of hair blown in the wind... and himself in the suit, it felt like being in a strange gothic romance novel of their own. Certainly they had both dealt with their own darkness, and had found light together. Sören hoped they would have peace for awhile; they'd known enough sorrow. Sören looked at the grey sky, the fog, and the heath, broken up by stones that seemed to be watching, that had seen many lovers, many sorrows.  
  
"Sometimes I used to tag along out here," Ben said.  
  
"Yeah, it was harder to be emo with an exuberant little kid following me." Karen grinned at Ben. "And even then, you were singing."  
  
"I even sang Joy Division." Ben had a mischievous look on his face.  
  
The idea of a tiny Ben belting out Joy Division songs made Sören crack up laughing, and Karen, Ben and Pierre laughed too. Then Ben began to sing, and though his vocal range was very different from Ian Curtis's, it still sounded good - he made the song his own, and it was all too appropriate for the haunting, wild moorland:  
  
 _Someone take these dreams away,  
That point me to another day,  
A duel of personalities,  
That stretch all true realities.  
  
That keep calling me,  
They keep calling me,  
Keep on calling me,  
They keep calling me.  
  
Where figures from the past stand tall,  
And mocking voices ring the halls.  
Imperialistic house of prayer,  
Conquistadors who took their share.  
  
That keep calling me,  
They keep calling me,  
Keep on calling me,  
They keep calling me..._  
  
A shiver went down Sören's spine. He thought of the feeling of anxiety he'd had just before Karen had gotten word that Anna was in the hospital... he thought of when he'd known something was wrong with Anthony. He thought of the dreams he and Anthony had both had, of what felt like another lifetime. Like their souls were tied together, like they had been fated to meet again. The sudden mad thought went through Sören - that they were all fated somehow, this chosen family they'd knit together.  
  
He thought of the way the other-him-from-the-dreams had seethed, raging against the gods.  
  
 _Those are just dreams. Stop it._  
  
Sören took a deep breath. There was the sudden tang of petrichor in the air. "It's gonna rain again," he said.  
  
The rain started just as they were meters from the car.  
  
  
_  
  
  
They didn't go right back to Carl and Renata's. Karen and Ben gave Sören and Pierre the grand tour of Sheffield - where they went to school, and other haunts, with little anecdotes. They stopped to get ice cream, needing to treat themselves after the emotional ordeal of the funeral, and Sören got whipped cream on his nose again and Karen took a picture. Then Karen sent the picture to Sören, and Sören decided to text Anthony with the picture, since Anthony seemed fond of Sören getting whipped cream on his nose. Sören remembered then that he hadn't passed along Anthony's message last night. "Anthony told me to tell you he said hi when I texted him last night," Sören said.  
  
Karen raised an eyebrow. "Did he say 'give Bella Swan my regards'?"  
  
"Er, no." Sören showed her the message for herself. “Seriously, now that he knows you don't like it, he stopped. He's not a bad guy.”

“It's a relief he wasn't intentionally being a dick.” Karen said the word "dick" just as Sören was taking a bite of banana from his banana split, and Sören tried not to splutter. Ben and Pierre snickered, and Karen facepalmed, also shaking with laughter. She kicked Sören under the table. "You have a one-track mind, you know."  
  
"It's at least sixty nine tracks." Sören grinned.  
  
Then Sören went on, "Anyway... you could have gotten him back."  
  
"How? He was the pack alpha of the class. He never betrayed any of the issues he has, back then."  
  
"Well, if he had been in the habit of calling me something like that, I would have started calling him Cornelius."  
  
"Cornelius?" Karen looked genuinely confused.  
  
"That's his given name," Sören said. "Cornelius Anthony Hewlett-Johnson." At Karen's look of shock, Sören said, "You... didn't know that?"  
  
"No." And then Karen lost it, doubling over. "His... his... his name is _Cornelius._ "  
  
"Who in the _hell_ names their kid Cornelius?" Ben asked.  
  
"Elaine," Sören said. "It was her great-grandfather's name."  
  
Karen kept repeating the name, in hysterics. "Cornelius. _Cornelius._ "  
  
"Oh god, he's gonna kill me." Sören bit his lower lip. "I honestly had no idea you didn't know that."  
  
"We went to school together, or at least for our diploma conversion, and I knew _some_ things about him - he'd been to Europe, he'd taken linguistics - but no, his given name hadn't come up." Karen was tearing up again, this time not from sadness. " _Cornelius._ " Then Karen pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know, now that I think about it, there was a C. Anthony Hewlett-Johnson on his business card, but I'm so used to thinking of him as Anthony that I didn't really notice the C."  
  
"When we were newly together he gave me his business card and I asked him what the C was for. His first answer was 'Could You Not'." Sören smiled at the fond memory.  
  
Karen laughed again. "God, I needed that."  
  
Sören missed Anthony, too. He supposed it was probably a good thing that Anthony wasn't replying immediately; it meant he and Geir were likely horizontal. Sören's face burned, not wanting to think about that right now, especially as he looked at whipped cream.  
  
 _Is it August yet?_ He was once again questioning his sanity about waiting a year. But he knew it was important for both their sakes.  
  
Karen seemed to know Sören was thinking about him, and squeezed his hand under the table.  
  
  
_  
  
  
There was a break at Carl and Renata's house before dinner out. The guests had left and it was just family now. Carl, Karen and Ben were looking at a photo album, while Sören and Pierre played cards, not wanting to intrude on their space, but every now and again they glanced over. At last Carl handed the album to Karen. "Here," he said.  
  
"Dad, are you _sure_?" Karen asked, frowning.  
  
Carl nodded. "I have other photos of her, and you. I know you were living rather minimalist for awhile and now that you're settled some, you can have things like this."  
  
Sören noticed the word "some" and found that an interesting and possibly unfortunate turn of phrase; Karen's eyes widened and Sören got the sense she bristled at it a little, but said nothing. Even so, Sören's heart skipped a beat and that feeling of anxiety came back.  
  
Sören and Karen went with Carl and Renata in their car to the steakhouse. There was mostly quiet on the way there, with the rain falling softly - serene rather than awkward, a much-needed moment of peace after the morning's intense emotions. At the steakhouse the family assembled at a large table: Lucia and the twins, Ben and Pierre, Carl and Renata, Karen and Sören. The menu was pricey but not outrageous, Sören had seen worse. He ordered a platter of steak and shrimp with a baked potato and a side of fried cauliflower and courgettes.  
  
As they waited for their food, Ben was asked by his parents about the theatre, and despite his clear emotional exhaustion Ben nonetheless came alive, animated as he spoke of something he was deeply passionate about. Sören, who had joked before that he would get his gay card revoked due to lack of interest in theatre, nonetheless appreciated Ben talking about it - it made the subject more appealing to Sören, who was now looking forward to seeing Ben on stage this December rather than just showing up to support a friend.  
  
Then Pierre was asked about his work, and talked about his love of history and languages. Sören thought about telling Pierre he and Nicholas should hang out more and then he stopped himself, remembering that discussing Nicholas was probably a bad idea in this situation. Nonetheless, Pierre's own passion for history was similar enough to Nicholas's that Sören found it comforting... and somewhat arousing. Pierre was pretty to look at, but his intelligence made him even more attractive to Sören, and Sören didn't like that he was noticing Pierre like this.  
  
Or that it was making him think of Nicholas's intellect, and Anthony's, and making him even hornier for them. _I like big brains, and I cannot lie._  
  
That got into Karen talking about going back to school, and her job at the Royal Opera House Gift Shop. There was a slight frown on Renata's face that, even though she spoke no words of disapproval, still registered dislike of retail, and Sören got the feeling that Renata and Karen had probably had some disagreements on Karen's line of work, especially after Karen having been a barrister. This became more obvious when Renata asked, "So, you're not going back into law?"  
  
Karen's eyes locked with her mother's. "No. I'm done with law for good."  
  
"Hey, there's the food!" Sören pointed at the waiter, even though it was rude to point, and began waving like a madman - he knew he looked ridiculous but he was hoping it would defuse the tension enough before it exploded.  
  
Ben had ordered a steak fajita that was served hot off the pan at the table, and Sören wished for a moment he'd ordered that, but then he dug into his baked potato with the works - sour cream, cheese, bacon, mushrooms - and he decided he was happy. As his mouth was full of potato, and he felt a daub of sour cream on his nose, Renata's eyes met his across the table. _Oh shit._ Karen reached with a napkin to wipe Sören's nose just as Renata spoke. "Sören. So..." She glanced at Karen, then back at Sören. "Where are you from? How did you and Karen meet?"  
  
"I'm from Iceland," Sören said. "Karen and I met in Reykjavik in 2009, at a bar."  
  
"I was there for work," Karen explained.  
  
Renata sniffed slightly, as if she didn't like the idea that they'd met in a bar. But there seemed to be an added layer of disapproval there when Renata asked, "You've been dating since 2009 and didn't tell me?"  
  
"No. _No._ " Karen shook her head. "We met, and had every intention of keeping in touch, but my bag got stolen. I tried looking him up after that but he's not on social media so it's harder. Anyway... our paths crossed again last December."  
  
"In Iceland?" Renata looked confused.  
  
"No, here. Well, in London." Sören sipped his ice water, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Geir had some medical issues and he went to the National, where I work."  
  
"I see. You're a doctor?"  
  
"Neurosurgeon," Sören said.  
  
Renata's eyebrows shot up. She looked almost impressed. Sören glanced over at Karen, whose eyes narrowed, looking slightly annoyed at her mother's _ah, a professional_ reaction.  
  
"How long have you been in England, if you don't mind me asking?" Renata asked.  
  
Sören wondered if Renata was thinking he was using Karen to become a citizen, and he hoped not. "Since 2010. The NHS is sponsoring my visa, and I applied for citizenship this year, it's going through next month." He fended off what he suspected would be the next question. "I'm still planning on working at the NHS rather than going private, I'm Scandinavian, socialized medicine is one of my values."  
  
Renata nodded, as if she approved. But she still had more questions, as if he hadn't quite passed whatever test she was giving out yet. "So you're... living here permanently? Not going back to Iceland?"  
  
"Only to visit, maybe. Yeah, for better or worse, England is home now."  
  
"I've heard Iceland is such a nice country." Renata looked at Carl. "Might be worth a trip sometime."  
  
"It's beautiful," Sören said, and both because he felt like paying Karen a sincere compliment and also to put any lingering doubts to rest about his intentions, he put an arm around Karen and said, "But your daughter is also beautiful, and feels like home."  
  
Renata and Carl both smiled. Renata raised her glass of wine and then she said, "Your paths crossed again in December, you say?"  
  
Karen and Sören both nodded. "We've been dating since then. Almost a year," Karen said.  
  
Renata's smile got bigger. "Congratulations. It must be serious, then? Is Geir on notice?"  
  
Karen sighed.  
  
"We're committed, it's serious, we love each other, but we're... casual," Sören said, speaking before Karen could, not wanting Karen to snap at her mother - even though he understood her frustration. Everyone was stressed out enough. "I work a lot of hours, and I keep strange hours. Sometimes I work overnight, handling emergency trauma cases as they come in. Sometimes I get called in when I think I have a night off. It's not the best for living with someone." That last statement wasn't wholly true - though Sören did feel guilty for the way his schedule sometimes conflicted with Nicholas's, and the times when they were looking forward to a nice evening together and Sören got called in, and Sören had felt guilty about the same when he lived with Anthony, somehow Nicholas dealt with it, just as Anthony dealt with it.  
  
Karen played along. "And it's 2015, Mum. Not everyone gets married and lives together nowadays. I like having a measure of independence."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with that," Carl said. "You know I worked as a freelance journalist to be my own boss."  
  
"I suppose." Renata nodded, trying to smile - trying to hide her disappointment.  
  
Karen also tried to smile, but it did not meet her eyes.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When they got back to their hotel room, Karen flopped down on the bed with a groan. "I'm sorry about Mum," she said.  
  
"It could have been worse," Sören said. "Mainly I felt worse for you than for myself."  
  
Karen rubbed her face, and began taking her hair down out of the chignon. "Even though she resented not being able to go to university and have a career herself - she kind of pushed me to it - I also know she expected me, at some point, to marry someone like... well, Anthony. Give her some grandchildren."  
  
Sören snorted. "Anthony's gay."  
  
Karen also snorted. Her voice lowered an imitation of Nicholas's bass. "As you know..."  
  
They looked at each other and laughed, and then Sören began undoing his tie. He hated wearing suits and he couldn't get out of his fast enough.  
  
"But you know what I mean," Karen went on.  
  
"I do," Sören said. "And I hope _you're_ not disappointed that we're not doing the marriage-and-kids thing."  
  
"I'm not," Karen said. "Once in a very great while I do wonder about what it would be like, I won't lie, I don't hate the thought of us having a child or two. But I'd prefer that sort of thing be planned, and it's... not a dealbreaker if we don't."  
  
Sören nodded. He didn't hate the thought of having a child with Karen either, but it was definitely not something to do _now_.  
  
Karen sighed. She sat up and her hair tumbled loose. "I feel like shit."  
  
"You don't look like shit."  
  
"Thanks. But I just feel..." Karen made a face. "Wrung out."  
  
"It's understandable. You lost someone you love."  
  
"I knew, logically, she wouldn't live forever, but I didn't expect to lose her now. I'd hoped to come up here during the holidays, see her again..." Karen looked down.  
  
Sören wanted to make her feel better somehow. He wracked his brain for a minute. While he knew Karen had a sweet tooth and there were nice desserts on the hotel's room service menu, he also knew Karen had skipped dessert at the steakhouse and he knew it probably wasn't because they'd had ice cream that afternoon. She needed something else. He thought, and then it came to him. "How about I run a bath for you, so you can take a bubble bath?"  
  
"That sounds nice." Karen smiled.  
  
Sören got to it, changing out of his suit so it wouldn't get wet from the bathroom - and because he couldn't stand it anymore - putting on a black T-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. He started running the water in the bathtub and added some of the liquid soap courtesy of the hotel. Then he went to his luggage, took out the cologne oil he'd brought - an old-fashioned fougère with lavender and oakmoss, and added a couple drops to the bath. Soon the smell filled the bathroom. When Karen walked in she inhaled deeply and sighed.  
  
"Sören, you're _wonderful._ "  
  
"You deserve it. Go on, relax for a bit."  
  
While Karen took her bath, Sören checked his e-mail and replied to Ari and Dag's replies. His phone finally went off with the text notification sound, and Sören saw he'd gotten a reply from Anthony, hours later.  
  
 _You're adorable._  
  
Sören bit his lower lip, stomach fluttering. Sören sent back a heart emoji.  
  
 _Is Karen holding up OK?_ Anthony asked.  
  
 _About as well as can be expected._ Sören looked in the direction of the bathroom and sighed. If the bath had been big enough for two people he'd have liked to join her - not even necessarily in a sexual way, but so he could relax himself. Nonetheless, thinking about taking a bath with Karen made him think about sex, which quickly turned to thoughts of why Anthony had been late in replying - what he could have been up to with Geir. _How's Geir?_  
  
 _Good._ A wink emoji.  
  
Sören snickered. He sent back an eggplant emoji next to a peach emoji, a face grimacing that could double as an orgasm face, and water drops.  
  
Anthony sent back a halo emoji next to an eggplant emoji.  
  
It never failed to make Sören laugh when Anthony texted with an eggplant emoji - something he'd done occasionally when they were together. Something about the articulate, serious, suave barrister sending an eggplant emoji to his boyfriend tickled Sören's funny bone just the right way. Sören sighed again, missing Anthony so much it hurt.  
  
When he put his phone back on the bedtable, Karen's locket fell on the floor. Sören picked it up and then he found himself just holding it, not able to let it go just yet. In his mind's eye he saw an elderly woman who looked very like an older version of Karen, teaching a small Karen to play piano, the two of them playing a duet together. Later, a teenage Karen teaching a small Ben the same.  
  
Sören's hand closed around the locket, tight. He thought of his mamma, always singing. He thought of his sister, who had been a singer herself, and a musician.  
  
 _Rage against the dying of the light._  
  
Karen came out of the bathroom to find Sören holding the locket. After she changed into pajamas, Sören clasped the locket around her neck reverently. Then, not thinking, just feeling, he said, "Can I see your photo album?"  
  
Karen and Sören sat on the bed together and Karen showed him the photo album that Carl had given her. Sören got choked up at the pictures of Karen's grandmother and grandfather together - they looked so happy - and then a tiny Karen, bigger but still small, with each of her grandparents, sometimes both of them. In the garden, wearing pigtails, a sunhat and dirt on her nose. In the living room - Karen sitting in a chair much too big, feet not touching the floor, with her grandfather reading to her. Karen outside on the moor, riding piggyback on her grandfather's shoulders. Karen dancing with her grandmother in the living room again.  
  
"I lost my grandfather, Erik, during my first year of uni." Karen frowned. "I thought I was going to have a breakdown."  
  
" _Elskan._ " Sören pulled her onto his shoulder and began to pet her hair.  
  
There were more pictures of Karen and her grandparents and some individual photos of her grandmother and grandfather, like a picture of her grandmother sewing. A picture of her grandfather enjoying a glass of whisky. Her grandmother at the piano with a small Karen, then with a bigger Karen and a very small Ben. A small Ben trying a nip of whisky and making a face while his grandfather patted him on the head. Sören laughed out loud at that.  
  
Karen laughed too, and then she cried. Her tears got more intense as they continued through the photo album, and at last Sören just closed the photo album and held her, letting her sob out the flood she'd been holding back all day.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Karen wept.  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"I feel like such a mess right now."  
  
"Karen, if the situation was reversed, you'd be telling me a reaction like this is normal and human. Cut yourself some slack." Sören gave her a mock stern look, though he hoped she'd take those words to heart. "Doctor's orders."  
  
Karen kissed his cheek.  
  
Sören continued holding her, rocking her, petting her, letting her cry and cry. Karen cried until she was spent, enough to start dozing off. Sören turned down the lights and tucked them both in, but he wasn't sleepy yet - he was in watchdog mode, with his mate in distress. He continued holding her, aching for her.  
  
He thought of the photos he'd seen... the locket he'd held. He couldn't bring Anna back, he couldn't fix things, but he felt that burning feeling he got when the muse was upon him, and when he was absolutely sure Karen was asleep he made his way over to the couch in the hotel suite, turned on a small lamp, and fished out his tablet. He habitually brought his tablet when he went anywhere, even though most of the time he was too tired and brain-dead from his work schedule to make art, but the muse struck when it struck, and now he felt restless, feverish, needing to give Karen something to hold onto, as if Anna herself were giving him a piece of her soul to preserve.  
  
Sören began to sketch on the tablet. In his mind's eye he saw Anna and Erik both on the moor, dressed somewhat similarly to how he and Karen had been dressed earlier that day after the funeral, but a little less formal, a little less somber. A tie for Erik without a suit jacket. A dress for Anna in a brighter blue. They were still old, but less weathered, less aged. Anna's hair stirred in the winds as Karen's had that morning. Sören saw the grey skies and fog, but also sunlight through clouds. Wildflowers on the heath.  
  
The hair on Sören's arms and the back of his neck stood on end. It felt like someone else was in the room with him, besides Karen snoring softly in the bed, but of course nobody else was.  
  
Sören found himself drawing a beagle. He hadn't seen the entire photo album, but he knew he hadn't seen any pictures of a beagle in the photos and it didn't make sense, but somehow it just felt right to draw a beagle running around the moor, tongue lolling, tail happy.  
  
Sören looked at the clock. It was the middle of the night. He knew he wasn't going to finish the sketch tonight - he liked to add a lot of detail - but it was well on its way. And then once the sketch was done, he could start adding color with the paintbrush tool, bringing his vision to life. The silver mists. The shaft of sunlight. The riot of wildflowers.  
  
"Sören?"  
  
 _Shit._ Sören felt a pang of guilt, hoping Karen hadn't had a nightmare, as if his presence in the bed with her or lack thereof had any control of that, but he didn't want to cause her more anxiety when she'd already lost someone dear to her. He saved his sketch, put the tablet away, turned off the lamp and came back to bed.  
  
"I'm here, _elskan_."  
  
Karen snuggled up against him. "So cold in here." She shivered. "You're warm."  
  
Sören hadn't noticed it was cold - he threw off a lot of body heat, but he also knew the hotel had a thermostat and it didn't seem to be malfunctioning. He hoped Karen wasn't getting sick. He pulled the covers tighter around them and kissed her forehead. "Go back to sleep. You need to rest."  
  
Karen made a noise, but snuggled closer and soon she was asleep again. Sören lay there, watching her sleep in the glow of the nightlight, and then his own eyes got heavy and he, too, went out.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The blare of the hotel room's alarm clock was one of the most horrific sounds Sören Sigurdsson had ever heard in his entire life.  
  
" _Ég hata morgna. Morgnar eru vondir, skítt úr rassgatinu á djöflinum sjálfum._ "  
  
Karen laughed as she shut off the alarm clock. She was already up and dressed, in a forest green cashmere sweater and light blue jeans, the locket around her neck. "Good morning to you too."  
  
Sören made a noise of distress when he saw it was already ten AM. They were taking the train at one, and meeting Karen's family for breakfast and taking one last walk on the moor before they went to the train station.  
  
"I slept in too. I got up not that long ago, and you know how I am." Karen yawned and stretched. "I needed the sleep."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"You, on the other hand... I vaguely remember waking up in the middle of the night and you weren't there."  
  
"Couldn't sleep." Sören decided not to tell Karen what he was working on, or that he was working on something at all - he wanted to surprise her.  
  
"I hope I haven't been stressing you out too much." Karen made a face.  
  
Sören shook his head. "I mean, I don't _like_ seeing you in pain, but... this is part of what having a relationship entails. Being there for someone in good times and bad." Sören remembered when he'd lost a patient on the operating table and Anthony held him all night.  
  
"I still sort of feel bad." Karen's frown deepened. "We're here in this hotel room and it hasn't exactly been romantic, and I know you... well, you have needs."  
  
Sören gave her a look. "Karen. I'm here for you."  
  
Karen opened her mouth and Sören sighed, not wanting her to feel guilty - he felt guilty that she felt guilty. He hoped nothing he said or did had given her the impression that his feelings were purely physical. "Look. I like sex..."  
  
"As you know," Karen quipped.  
  
Sören's voice dropped a few octaves. "As you know, I like sex."  
  
"Has he ever said that? No wait, never mind, I don't want to know." Karen rolled her eyes and facepalmed, laughing.  
  
Sören snorted and then he got serious. "I like sex, but that's not the only reason I'm with you, or even the main reason. I like _you_ as a person. I like spending time with you. You might recall that we didn't have sex when we met in Reykjavik -"  
  
"We could have. I regretted not inviting you back to my hotel room."  
  
Sören's face burned, and his mind briefly played thoughts of what that could have been like. Then he shrugged and said, "I still thought of you, years later. You left that much of an impression on me." Sören sighed and folded his arms. "We may be together but... you're not a sex toy, you're a person with feelings. You don't owe me sex. I didn't come here to get laid, I came here to support you."  
  
"OK." Karen nodded.  
  
Sören wasn't done yet - he wanted Karen to have no doubt. "If Anthony's injuries from the car accident had been more severe... if he was paralyzed from the waist down, in a wheelchair, could never have sex again... I would still love him. I would still want to be with him." _And at least 0000000000000then I'd know he'd never screw a pretty boy from Grindr behind my back._  
  
The fact that he even had that thought, when Anthony was trying so hard to be good, to rebuild trust - he hadn't even kissed Geir without talking to Sören first - was proof of why they did, in fact, need to wait until August, and probably longer than that, as much as Sören missed Anthony and was aching for his touch. He hated having that knee-jerk thought, still, that he wasn't over it yet - he knew he probably would never be completely over it, and forgiveness wasn't the same thing as forgetting - but it was there, and he couldn't deny it. Sören pulled himself together with a deep breath and went on. "Nick is going to be sixty-seven in December. He can throw the dick now -"  
  
Karen lost it, snorting and spluttering at Sören's turn of phrase. Sören grinned, pleased that he'd taken some of the edge off; he loved making people laugh. And he definitely needed to take his own edge off, after the thought he'd just had about Anthony. "But I'm not sure what his ability will be like in five, ten, twenty years." Sören didn't want to think about that. "I just know that we're mated for life. Unless he says or does something unforgivable... we're as good as married. I like the sex with him, I like it _a lot_ , but it's not just sex. And it's not just sex with us, either. I would hope after a year that's obvious -"  
  
"It is," Karen assured him. "This is me expressing my own frustration, I guess. I like our sex life too, I'd like to get some time for that."  
  
"We will. But it's OK if now's not the right time, and if you need awhile to deal with the grief." Sören gave her a sympathetic look. "So please, stop feeling bad about it. I'm not feeling neglected or anything."  
  
Karen came over to him and gave him a hug. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I love you too." Sören's arms tightened around her.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On the train ride back from Sheffield they snuggled together under a blanket. Sören watched the landscape roll by under the grey skies. He resisted the urge to take out his tablet and work some more on the sketch-to-become-a-painting, still feeling like he needed to surprise Karen.  
  
But they were close enough that Karen seemed to know without being told that Sören's mind was a million miles away. "You were making art last night, weren't you? That was why you weren't in bed." She touched his face.  
  
Sören's eyes rolled and he started laughing, amused that she'd caught it even though he was slightly peeved that the surprise was sort of ruined now. He nodded.  
  
"I want to seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," Karen said in a singsong voice.  
  
"It was supposed to be a surprise for you."  
  
"It's still a surprise! I'm pleasantly surprised you're making art again." Karen started tugging on his sleeve. "Come on. Show me..."  
  
Sören indulged her, taking out his tablet. He didn't even need to explain what the picture was - Karen's eyes widened, her mouth opened, and tears filled her eyes. She threw her arms around him and started to cry again, though with an effort to keep it down since they were still on the train.  
  
"It's not done yet," Sören said. "I still need to, ah, add more things, and then, of course, color. But I feel pretty motivated, so I might be able to finish within the next couple of weeks -"  
  
"It's... already pretty amazing." Karen blinked as she took it in, both zoomed out and zoomed in, with Sören scrolling around the page so she could see all the details he'd managed thus far. Then she gasped when she saw the beagle. She gave Sören a look of disbelief. "That's Rolf."  
  
"...Rolf."  
  
"My grandfather had a beagle named Rolf." Karen shook her head and then she blinked again at Sören, looking like she'd seen a ghost. "There were no photos of Rolf in that album, my father has an album full of Rolf pictures but... you didn't see that."  
  
"No," Sören said honestly. He scratched his head, wondering how he got the idea for the beagle. "Maybe you mentioned him sometime...?"  
  
"I don't remember ever mentioning Rolf to you. I haven't talked about my grandfather a whole lot because, you know... it still hurts." Karen bit her lower lip. "That's... wow. It just randomly occurred to you to put a beagle in there?"  
  
"Jæja. I. I thought it was cute. Just kind of happened unplanned." The hair on Sören's arms and the back of his neck was standing on end again, gooseflesh on his arms despite his sweater and jacket and the warmth of the blanket. He thought about how he felt like he wasn't alone in the hotel room last night, but that seemed like superstitious, pseudoscientific nonsense.  
  
Karen and Sören looked at each other again, then Sören quietly turned off the tablet and put it away.  
  
"I'm looking forward to seeing the finished product," Karen said.  
  
"You'll do more than see it. I was going to make a print and frame it and give it to you, maybe an early Christmas gift."  
  
Karen kissed his cheek. " _You_ are an early Christmas gift."  
  
Sören smiled and pulled her as close as he could in the train's seating. His mind was spinning, feeling disconcerted about the surprise beagle that turned out to not be just a flight of fancy on his part. But it was comforting to Karen, and that was what mattered, it was for her.  
  
He closed his eyes and out of nowhere, unbidden, his mind recalled Ben singing on the moor.  
  
 _That keep calling me,  
They keep calling me,  
Keep on calling me,  
They keep calling me..._


	23. Moving Out

"How are things going with Geir?"  
  
Anthony smiled. He'd told Helen about the arrangement earlier that month - that Sören was in an open relationship with Nicholas, and was fine with him having other partners so long as he was honest about it. He had been a little concerned that Helen would disapprove, or even think he was some sort of sex addict - a lot of people thought only monogamy was acceptable, even other LGBT people. But to his relief, Helen had been fairly accepting, at least in a professional way, and was more concerned with whether or not his relationships were healthy, than with enforcing morality. "Things are still going well. I'm seeing him tonight and spending the weekend with him again."  
  
Helen nodded. "You still haven't told your mother?"  
  
"No." Anthony took a deep breath. "She knows that Sören and Nicholas are in an open relationship, but I haven't sat down and told her that I'm... also... exploring polyamory. I don't know how she'd react. I don't know that she'd be judgmental, but it's one thing for her to be accepting of someone else and another thing for her to see her own son living it. And living with her, it's harder to escape any awkwardness, if that makes sense at all."  
  
"It does. So she assumes that you're spending the weekend with Sören."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony grimaced. He already felt guilty enough about lying to his mother - especially when Sören was emphasizing honesty, the need to rebuild trust; he didn't think Sören would be best pleased if and when he found out he hadn't told his mother they weren't quite back together yet. "My mum was pretty upset when Sören and I broke up in 2013. It was like she'd lost a son. I don't have the heart to tell her he decided to be just friends for right now, till next year, and only if I've passed muster with his terms and conditions. This year has been hell for my mum too, the stress of my accident, and then her mother dying. I feel like I'd be breaking her heart and crushing the little ray of hope that she has."  
  
"It's understandable why you wouldn't tell her, but I do question how long you'd be able to keep up appearances, and that's what I'm concerned about."  
  
Anthony looked down. Helen had a point. It wasn't just that he had a feeling Sören might not take it well that he hadn't broken the news to his mother, but Elaine herself might be upset if she found out he wasn't being completely honest. And yet, it was very much not a conversation he wanted to have with his mother right now. Especially not while he was still living with her.  
  
"Of course," Helen went on, "it's less of her business where you go and what you do, how you spend your time and who you spend it with, if you're not living with her. I'd argue that even now, it shouldn't really be her business, you're an adult, but that's easier said than done when she's right there."  
  
"She's right there and she's a naturally curious person who asks a lot of questions." Anthony gave a nervous laugh. "I can't imagine where I got my lawyer instincts from."  
  
"No." Helen gave a small smile.  
  
Then Anthony nodded. He knew Helen was right about that too - he really needed to move out. But the thought of living alone was overwhelming - even in a small studio apartment he didn't know how well he'd be able to keep up with chores with his limited mobility. And the thought of a roommate...  
  
"Do you think, perhaps, you might live with Geir at some point? Maybe not now but down the road?" Helen asked.  
  
Anthony chuckled again and shook his head. "He has a roommate already, and they have a third person staying with them temporarily, sleeping on their couch. I like Geir, I care about him, but we're not serious like that. Even if Karen moved out tomorrow, I don't know how I'd feel about living with Geir. We're still getting to know each other, and sometimes someone you're compatible with as friends or as a partner isn't necessarily someone you're compatible living with."  
  
"Fair," Helen said. "I was simply asking, not necessarily suggesting."  
  
"I did... get an offer." Anthony swallowed hard. "From Sören."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"He and Nicholas have a guest room. It's... an ideal situation in a lot of ways. They have a cat, and I love cats. They have a lot of books, and I love to read. They live in Covent Garden which you know isn't far from Holborn, when I eventually return to Lincoln's Inn." He noticed he said "when", and at the way Helen clasped her hands, he knew she noticed that too. "But... I haven't said yes yet. Honestly, I don't know if I will. I feel like I'd get on their nerves."  
  
"Well, you said they offered? I think they're probably aware of things like your limited mobility and have taken that into consideration and wouldn't have offered if they thought it would be a problem."  
  
Anthony really wanted to believe that, especially with Sören having a diagnostic mind as a doctor, and Nicholas's keen intellect as an academic. But he still felt self-conscious. "I just... worry the proverbial other shoe is going to drop anytime now," he admitted honestly. "Like I'm going to wear out my welcome."  
  
"That's unfortunate, though I do think you've gotten a little of your confidence back. You're now speaking of returning to work as 'when' rather than 'if'."  
  
"Geir has been a good confidence booster," Anthony said. He quickly added, "It's not that I'm using him, or anything -"  
  
"No, I didn't think that," Helen said. "And it's good that Geir has helped you build more confidence. But Anthony..." Helen exhaled sharply. "I wish there was a way for you to value yourself more without the validation from others. To see yourself as capable, and worthy of respect, and companionship, whether you have a partner or not."  
  
Anthony knew Sören would say the same thing. Before the accident, Anthony had given the impression to the world that he _was_ confident, rather than a hot mess of insecurity seething on the inside... that he was suave and sophisticated, rather than a bullied outcast whose first true friend had ghosted him; his true self was a nerdy dork behind closed doors, and he rocked and fidgeted when he was under stress. He knew confidence could be faked, and he'd certainly faked it enough to make Crown Prosecution fear him in the courtroom, earning the epithet the Shark. But the process of building _true_ confidence was slower going, and it was harder to do without that external validation. Yet, he knew that external validation was hit-or-miss - not everyone was going to like him, or love him, and he had to be able to live with himself.  
  
Anthony sighed.  
  
"I know it's easier said than done," Helen said. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a manila folder. "I have homework for you."  
  
"Oh no." Anthony made a face. Sometimes Helen gave him worksheets and sometimes they were helpful - like a worksheet on coping skills for emotional dysregulation, something very common with neuroatypical people - and sometimes he thought it was bullshit, like a worksheet she'd given him on "reframing", to avoid catastrophizing when things went bad. In the context of what they were just talking about, the worksheet didn't sound like he'd particularly enjoy it.  
  
Helen walked over and handed it to him. It was a worksheet of affirmations. Anthony saw the first one: _I am my own unique self – special, creative and wonderful._  
  
"Are you fucking serious?" Anthony's eyebrow shot up.  
  
"You enjoy a good challenge, don't you? Let's try one now. Every day for the next thirty days, I want you to pick an affirmation from the worksheet and say it in the mirror at least twice a day. If in thirty days from now you're not feeling at least a little more confident and better about yourself, then I promise you I'll never give you an affirmation worksheet again."  
  
"I'd tell you it's not working just to not get another worksheet," Anthony quipped. He looked over the affirmations. _Life is a joy filled with delightful surprises._ "No offense, but this is _shite._ "  
  
Helen actually smiled. Anthony got the sense she'd be fun to have a drink with in a non-professional setting, she seemed like she was good-humored. But of course, they couldn't be friends outside the clinic, that wasn't professional or appropriate. "I admit that it looks a bit... contrived. But please, give it a chance. What's the worst that could happen?"  
  
"Feeling like an arse," Anthony said. But then, he was used to feeling like that anyway. "All right." He folded up the worksheet and put it in his pocket. "I'll do it, just to show you that you're wrong and it doesn't do anything."  
  
"Go ahead, prove me wrong." Helen nodded. "Part of being a therapist is continuing to learn how to be most effective, and that involves trial and error."  
  
"And part of being a lawyer is to argue and prove the opposition wrong." Anthony smirked.  
  
Helen also smirked. "It sounds like you're already a little more confident than you were five minutes ago."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Elaine was waiting for Anthony in the parking lot. Sören wasn't going to have break any time soon, and Anthony wanted to go home and rest and freshen up before Geir was free in the late afternoon.  
  
Elaine had visited a Starbucks while Anthony was in therapy, and she'd gotten a coffee for him. Anthony thanked her and gave her a little kiss on the cheek and a pat before he took the coffee. Elaine smiled.  
  
"The hot coffee is nice," Anthony said. "It's colder out than I was expecting."  
  
"Well, it is late November now," Elaine said.  
  
"Yes, but... I don't know. I'm used to cold not feeling... this cold."  
  
"You're getting older." Elaine gave a wry smile. Then she frowned. "I also imagine with your injury your body is more reactive to the cold than it used to be. You lost a bit of weight."  
  
Anthony was always thin, but he had dropped enough weight since the accident that he was going to need to be fitted for new suits before he resumed work. He wasn't gaunt or frail-looking, but there was a noticeable difference. Anthony nodded and sipped his coffee.  
  
"The bread I started early this morning should be ready by the time we get back," Elaine said. "That'll warm you up too."  
  
Anthony smiled. He felt a little guilty for the increasingly-frequent irritation with his mother's overprotectiveness, she was very good to him. "That would be lovely."  
  
They were quiet then - Elaine knew he needed his space after a therapy session. Elaine was playing a collection of Billie Holiday's songs and the languid, bluesy music was perfect for unwinding on the drive back to Blackheath under the grey sky. After a little while Anthony began to see a few snowflakes, the first snow of the winter. Even though Anthony had seen snow many times over the course of his life, there was always something magical about the first snowfall and his mouth opened slightly, watching the snowflakes dance.  
  
 _I was a stranger in the city  
Out of town were the people I knew  
I had that feeling of self-pity  
What to do, what to do, what to do  
The outlook was decidedly blue  
  
But as I walked through the foggy streets alone  
It turned out to be the luckiest day I've known_  
  
Though Sören's personality and energy were fiery - enough so that Anthony used to call Sören his spirit of fire, when they were together - Sören was born on November twenty-fifth, a child of winter. Anthony thought Sören embodied the concept of fire in winter, the words from Camus: _in the depths of winter, I found within me an invincible summer_. He thought of Sören now as he watched the snow fall to Billie Holiday's voice. Today, November twentieth, he and Sören had decided to start a relationship back in 2011. Sören had been a part of his life for four years now. Taken root in his soul.  
  
 _How long I wondered,  
Could this thing last  
But the age of miracles, hadn't past  
For suddenly, I saw you there  
And through foggy London town,  
The sun was shining everywhere_  
  
That was how Anthony felt about him, still. Sören's fire lit up the whole world. Sören's fire was his whole world. He owed it to Sören to re-ignite the fire within himself, and try to shine again.  
  
"You're thinking of him, aren't you?" Elaine asked.  
  
Anthony just nodded.  
  
Elaine reached out and put a hand on his arm.  
  
Once they were back at the house, the aroma of fresh bread in the breadmaker was heavenly. Anthony sat down in front of the fire in the greatroom with warm bread and watched the snow fall in the garden, feeling cozy and peaceful. Despite Helen's worksheet of affirmations, which Anthony still felt ridiculous about, today was shaping up to be a good day, and it would be better when he saw Geir. Elaine pulled up her rocking chair and sat with Anthony, sampling the bread she had baked.  
  
"You should take some to Sören," Elaine said.  
  
Anthony wouldn't be seeing Sören until Sunday, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He also felt weird just taking some to Geir without having enough for Karen and Craig, and he knew Geir was avoiding carbs right now anyway. "It's all right, Mum. Leave the rest for you and Dad."  
  
Then Elaine frowned and cocked her head. "Anthony, why don't you invite Sören over for the weekend, instead of going to see him?"  
  
"Er."  
  
Anthony really did not want to have the conversation with his mother that he was, in fact, going to see Geir instead. He felt ice in the pit of his stomach, not knowing how he was going to get out of this one. _And it's my own damn fault. I should have been honest with her from the beginning, but I couldn't bear to make her upset over Sören._  
  
But before he could open his mouth and confess to her that he was going to see Geir instead, who she hadn't met, Elaine looked out at the snow and back at Anthony and she said, "I really don't like you going out in that."  
  
"We were... just out in it."  
  
"It wasn't coming down as hard." Elaine's frown deepened. "I worry about you taking a cab in that weather and getting into an accident, or slipping and having a fall -"  
  
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. Something snapped in his head and he heard himself exploding. "Jesus Bloody _Sodding_ Christ. Mum. _Mother._ "  
  
Elaine's jaw dropped and her eyes widened, taken aback.  
  
Part of Anthony felt guilty, not wanting to upset his mother, but now that the button had been pressed, all the pressure built up over months and months was releasing. "You _do_ realize that I used to live in Kingston and drove almost every day, in _that_ kind of weather and far worse, to and from work. You do realize that I have walked the streets of London for many, many, many years and have yet to have a fall."  
  
"Yes, but -"  
  
"No. There are no buts." Anthony used his cane and rose from his chair, his bread only half-eaten, his body trembling with irritation and the sickening rush of adrenaline. He hated every moment of this, he didn't want to hurt Elaine, but now he too felt like he had been injured and he was tired of it. "I realize that my accident was traumatic for you, not just for me. I do. I understand that. But. _For fuck's sake_ , Mum, I need you to stop treating me like I'm a bloody child, like I'm..." Anthony winced as his mind's eye replayed the memory - the fear as he tried to outrun the mob of boys, fear intensifying as he climbed and climbed and climbed the tree, the rocks now thrown upward, one hitting his glasses, his fall from the tree, the _snap_ in his thigh, the stabbing pain, the hysteria as he was rushed to the hospital. "Like I'm twelve years old again and just fell out of the tree. I'm _thirty-five_ now. I'll be thirty-six in February. I can't keep living my life like this, with you smothering me, guilt tripping me about leaving the house in inclement weather, worried for the next accident that may never happen. I can't. And I _won't._ It's not just driving me mad, but it's not good for you, either. I'm doing the hard work of trying to get past my fear of everything and fucking learn how to live, I'm in therapy, maybe you should bloody be as well."  
  
With that, Anthony hobbled off. Not as quickly as he would like - it took him twice the time it normally would to storm off, and only going half the distance, with his room on the ground floor. Anthony slammed his bedroom door behind him, though he didn't lock it, and then he collapsed onto his bed, silent tears flowing.  
  
 _Like an angry, sullen teenager._  
  
He felt like he'd thrown a temper tantrum, and when he heard his mother crying in the living room his guilt intensified. He thought about getting up, going back out there, and giving her a hug. But he was _furious_ , angrier than he'd been in a long time.  
  
He knew his mother meant well, and he was angrier with the situation itself moreso than his mother personally. He knew she didn't ask for the kind of anxiety she lived with, that it wasn't fun for her to worry as much as she did, she wasn't doing it on purpose. But as much as he regretted the harsh tone he took with her, he also meant what he said - his mother's issues were now starting to negatively affect him, and he thought maybe her going to therapy herself would be good for her.  
  
 _It would make her easier to live with, maybe._  
  
Though Anthony knew that really, the time was upon him where he was going to have to think about moving out. Even if his mother got therapy, he knew from his own experience it wasn't a quick cure. It was like rebuilding a house brick by brick. It was going to take time to see any progress with her, and the longer he stayed with her, the more it would reinforce that he was still a small, hurt boy who needed his mummy to help him. The sooner he moved out, the sooner he could start proving to her that he was perfectly fine out there. That the two brushes of death he'd had, were both freak accidents.  
  
 _The Boy Who Lived,_ Anthony thought to himself with a wry smile.  
  
Anthony flomped back on his bed with a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands. Despite his mother seeming to think he was still permanently stuck at age twelve, Anthony felt very, very old all of a sudden, and very, very tired. He started to cry again, harder, heart breaking at the sound of his mother crying in the living room. But he still couldn't make himself go out there and try to make everything right. Not just yet. His pride was still too stung and he worried that if he went out there he'd end up snapping at her again and making everything worse.  
  
Anthony ended up crying himself to sleep. He woke up from his nap a few hours later; a nap for an hour, or a "power nap" of fifteen to twenty minutes usually made him feel more recharged, but sleeping for a few hours had the opposite effect. He was groggy, and felt tired despite having slept. But he also panicked when he saw what time it was - he didn't have a whole lot of time before he was supposed to leave for Covent Garden.  
  
He took a shower, even though he'd already showered early that morning, he wanted to be extra fresh for Geir, and he hoped the shower would help wake him up after the nap. The hot water also felt good on his sore, tense muscles, and helped relax him after the earlier blowout. Though using the shower chair was a very visceral reminder of his accident and the limitations of his life now, he hated it less than he used to, and this time sitting underneath the shower was strangely soothing, like sitting in a waterfall. Anthony took some deep breaths and began the mental work of preparing himself to talk to his mother before he left.  
  
After he showered, he used his straight razor to shave, sitting in front of the mirror. He brushed his teeth. Then he double-checked his bag, to make sure he had everything he needed for the weekend, and changed into the outfit he'd laid out, putting on dark blue jeans and a charcoal grey cashmere sweater. He styled his hair, splashed on some cologne, dialed the cab, and deemed himself ready to face the world. But first, his mother. He heard his mother moving around in the kitchen, and after he put on his trenchcoat, a scarf and gloves, he hobbled there now.  
  
"Hi," he said, leaning against the counter.  
  
"Hello." Elaine's features were cool and distant, like his own when he was under stress and trying not to show it.  
  
Anthony held out an arm, inviting a hug. Elaine came forward and took Anthony into her arms.  
  
"I'm sorry I blew up at you," Anthony said.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm overbearing." Elaine squeezed him. "I hope you understand I'm not trying to hurt your feelings -"  
  
"I know you're not trying, but it does." Anthony sighed and pulled back a little, looking his mother in the eye, a hand on her shoulder. "I know you mean well. But even though I'm sorry I yelled at you, and I didn't mean to hurt you either, I do genuinely think you could benefit from talking to someone. I don't like to see you in so much anxiety."  
  
"I called the clinic you go to, while you were in your room," Elaine said. "I'm on the waiting list for an appointment."  
  
"Good." Anthony patted her shoulder. He was pleased that she had taken what he'd said to heart, even if the delivery had been unpleasant. "It'll be OK, Mum."  
  
"So you really are going out. I suppose you'd be offended if I asked to drive you?"  
  
"I'd rather you didn't. I already called the cab. Even if I didn't, Dad will be home soon and... I don't think it would do either of us any good. I need my space, and you need to see that I can go out there on a day like this without incident."  
  
"All right." Elaine exhaled sharply and nodded. "I'm sorry, again -"  
  
"It's... it's all right." Anthony gave her another hug. "Just try to distract yourself, OK?"  
  
Then Elaine handed him something wrapped in the tin foil. Anthony carefully unwrapped a small portion and what he saw confirmed his suspicions, before he covered it back up. "Peace offering," she said. "I insist."  
  
The rest of the loaf would be enough for Karen and Craig to share, if Geir was skipping it. "OK." Anthony nodded.  
  
"And I'll... distract myself by making another loaf for your father." Elaine chuckled.  
  
"There you go." There was a beep outside. "That's the cab. Gotta go. Bye, love you."  
  
"Love you." Elaine blew a kiss and waved.  
  
Anthony hobbled outside as quickly as he could, though he did try to be careful with the fresh snow on the walkway. The cab waited, and when he got in, the inside was toasty warm.  
  
As the cab took off, Anthony felt his anxiety start back up again, and he realized that his mother's anxiety was affecting him like this, too - he knew that statistically he was unlikely to be in another car accident but now that his mother's worry had brought it up, it weighed on his mind and he felt mild panic on the trip. Not enough to tell the cab driver to turn around and bring him back home - he needed to get out, he needed to see Geir - but it was unwelcome.  
  
 _Deep breaths._ Anthony began to breathe deeply and took the fidget spinner out of his trenchcoat pocket. _You'll get through this. You'll be fine._  
  
But even if he lived, the future still felt so uncertain, so full of hidden danger.  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Hey, handsome." Geir gave Anthony a quick kiss as he stepped inside.  
  
"Hi," Anthony said. He put the foil-wrapped bread down on the counter. At Geir's quizzical look he said, "Homemade bread, from my mum."  
  
"Oh, that was very nice of her." Geir frowned. "I can't have any."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But I thought Karen and Craig could share." He had to stop himself from calling her "Bella Swan", the old force of habit.  
  
Anthony and Geir sat on the couch together; after being out in the cold, there was hot tea. Anthony rested his head on Geir's shoulder and Geir began to rub his back. Then Geir noticed. "You're very tense."  
  
"Yeah, I am."  
  
"Bad day?" Geir got up, and Anthony watched as Geir cut a piece of bread and brought it over to him. "Here, you might as well have some of this too."  
  
At the sight of the bread his mother had baked - her kindness - Anthony felt the crushing weight of guilt of the earlier blowup. And remembered the way her anxiety created his own panic in the cab ride in the snow. He didn't want to cry in front of Geir but he found himself tearing up now. "Jesus." He covered his mouth with the heel of his hand and closed his eyes.  
  
As he trembled, Geir pulled him close, arms tight around him. "What is it? What happened? Did you and Sören fight?"  
  
"No."  
  
Geir cocked his head to one side. He looked at the bread, and then he looked back at Anthony. "Did you and your mum fight?"  
  
Anthony nodded and then he gave into the sobbing, even though he didn't want to, was ashamed, worried that Geir would think he looked like an idiot, that Geir would start getting turned off. He tried to remind himself Geir had probably seen Sören cry, who was very sensitive, and Geir wasn't judgmental like his ex-friends had been. But his face still burned. "God," he choked out. "I'm a grown man crying about a fight with my mummy -"  
  
"You're an adult having stress over difficult interpersonal dynamics with another adult," Geir said.  
  
"You sound like my therapist."  
  
Geir smirked. "I've read a few self-help books."  
  
That possibly contributed to why Geir was so mature for his age. Ordinarily Anthony would find that sort of thing amusing but now he just kept crying, his shame of crying in front of Geir looping into the shame of having yelled at his mother. "I'm an arse. I'm a terrible person -"  
  
"Pretty sure your mother wouldn't have given you homemade bread to take with you if she thought you were a horrible person. People fight, Anthony. It's not the end of the world."  
  
Their eyes met and Anthony fell apart again, and Geir pulled Anthony back against his chest and began to rock him. Being rocked was soothing - Anthony was prone to rocking himself in distress - and as Geir continued to rock him and rub his back, the tears became less intense, though they still poured more quietly.  
  
"Can you tell me what happened? Would it help to talk about it?"  
  
Anthony shrugged. He pulled back. He looked out the window at the snow, and then at Geir. "She was concerned about me going out in this and I just... snapped. I told her to stop infantilizing me. Not in those exact words, but -"  
  
"That was the gist of your message." Geir's lips quirked. "Your exact words probably included some impolite ones you normally wouldn't say to your own mother."  
  
Anthony nodded, cheeks burning again. "Like I said, I'm an arse."  
  
"Well... it's understandable." Geir patted him. "Your mum is driving you nuts. It sounds like your living situation is no longer a place of recovery but is starting to actively work against that."  
  
"Yeah." That was the deeper, uglier truth. Anthony looked down. He didn't want to deal with that - it seemed like enough of an uphill struggle to make himself go back to work - but he could feel the bell tolling.  
  
He started to cry again.  
  
"Awwww." Geir hugged him again. He kissed Anthony's tears and then he reached for the box of tissues and began wiping them. "OK, look. Karen's going to be home soon, and I have an idea."  
  
"Which is...?"  
  
"You need to get out for awhile. To help reinforce that you're not going to melt in the snow." Geir grinned, and Anthony chuckled. Then Geir went on, "We should go out for a few drinks. You, me, Karen, maybe Ben and Pierre if they can get here."  
  
"What about Craig?" Anthony didn't know him well, but he didn't want Craig to feel left out, which he knew from personal experience was a bad feeling. Sören was at work until late.  
  
"Craig's having dinner with Nicholas. That's why he's not here."  
  
"Oh!" That made Anthony feel a little better - Nicholas wasn't alone tonight, and Craig wouldn't be left out.  
  
"Besides..." Geir made a face. "Craig... really... shouldn't be going to bars and things like that."  
  
"Right, he's in recovery, sorry, I should have realized that." Anthony facepalmed. He remembered that when Nicholas served wine with Sunday dinners, Craig had water or juice.  
  
"Yeah. I mean, he didn't have a drinking problem but the meetings he goes to, they suggest that people don't drink, either, since one addiction can be replaced with another."  
  
"Makes sense." Anthony felt a twinge of sympathy for Craig, remembering his clients who'd fallen into addiction as a way to escape one type of pain or another. He wondered what Craig's story was; Craig didn't seem like he came from the sort of background most of his drug-using clients did.  
  
"Anyway, let me call Ben and Pierre and see what they're up to." Geir got up and took out his cell phone.  
  
Anthony began to nibble on the bread. He was still shaken up, and he wasn't sure that going out and being in crowds of people was actually the best remedy for how he felt right now - replacing one anxiety with another - but on the other hand he'd be around friends. And then Karen got in.  
  
"Hey." Geir was just finishing up his call. When he got off the phone he said, "I hope you don't have plans."  
  
"Hot bath and then watching a film or reading a book," Karen said. She smiled. "Eating chocolate."  
  
"OK, change of plans. I just got off the phone with Ben. We're taking Anthony to that pub in Charing Cross that has karaoke on Fridays."  
  
Karen squeaked and clapped her hands together. "Excellent!"  
  
"Karaoke?" Anthony felt even more dread.  
  
"If you don't want to, please don't feel forced," Geir said, putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "I can call Ben and tell him never mind -"  
  
"No... it's all right." Anthony put his hand on Geir's hand.  
  
"You can watch us make arses of ourselves," Geir said. "You'll look much more sophisticated than the rest of us."  
  
Anthony chuckled, and felt a little better about it. It was definitely a far cry from his old crowd.  
  
  
_  
  
  
 _It's not unusual to be loved by anyone  
It's not unusual to have fun with anyone  
But when I see you hanging about with anyone  
It's not unusual to see me cry,  
I wanna die_  
  
It was one thing to hear Pierre sing the old Tom Johnson song in his French accent. It was another thing to see Pierre dance like Carlton from _The Fresh Prince_ danced to the song. Now Anthony was tearing up for an entirely different reason.  
  
At the end, Ben gave a standing ovation, which led to several other people standing. Anthony even rose on his cane to applaud.  
  
Pierre ordered a round of drinks for everyone and gave Ben a little kiss. When their drinks were served, Pierre said, "Ben and I have an announcement to make."  
  
This was serious. Anthony sat up, giving his full attention.  
  
Ben cleared his throat. "Grandma left me with a bit of an inheritance. I'm not rich or anything, but it was a nice little nest egg and Pierre and I bought a flat in Charing Cross. We're going to start moving in next week, and we'd like to have a housewarming party sometime in December. You all are invited." At the look Karen gave him, Ben said, "Yes, _you all_ includes Craig."  
  
"I called him and told him," Pierre said, nodding.  
  
"Congratulations! That's a huge step," Karen said, and clinked glasses with her brother and his partner.  
  
"I honestly wondered if Craig had spilled when you invited us out," Ben said, giving Geir a look.  
  
Geir shook his head. "No, I suggested we go out for drinks to cheer up Anthony here." He put an arm around Anthony and rubbed his shoulder.  
  
"Oh?" Ben gave him a concerned look. "You OK?"  
  
"Winter getting you down?" Pierre asked.  
  
"Something like that," Anthony said, looking down, feeling put on the spot. He appreciated that they cared - he hadn't been able to talk to his old "friends" about his problems - but he also felt like a mess.  
  
Ben glanced at Karen - almost like they were communicating telepathically, though Anthony knew of course they weren't - and then Ben raised his eyebrows at Anthony. Then the DJ motioned for Ben to come over, Ben had put in when they first arrived and now it was his turn in the queue. He handed Anthony his beer. "I'm going up to sing," Ben said. "You can finish that, you probably need it." Anthony had just had one shot of cognac.  
  
Anthony watched Ben talk to the DJ, discussing what Ben was going to sing; Anthony couldn't make out what they were saying from the distance and couldn't read their lips. He assumed Ben was going to sing something silly to cheer him up, perhaps a show tune, like "Tomorrow" from _Annie_. But then the familiar opening riff of a Billy Joel song came on, and Anthony watched as Ben took the mic, looked right at Anthony, and began to sing:  
  
 _Anthony works in the grocery store  
Savin' his pennies for some day  
Mama Leone left a note on the door  
She said  
"Sonny, move out to the country"  
  
Oh but workin' too hard can give you a heart attack (Ack-ack-ack-ack-ack)  
You oughta know by now  
Who needs a house out in Hackensack?  
Is that all you get for your money?  
  
And it seems such a waste of time  
If that's what it's all about  
Mama, if that's movin' up, then I'm movin' out  
I'm movin' out_  
  
Anthony narrowed his eyes. Karen lifted her arms in triumph, shaking her glass.  
  
When the song was over and Ben returned amid applause, Anthony gave him a look. "Very subtle message there."  
  
"You need an anvil dropped on your head," Ben said.  
  
"I know I need to move out," Anthony said, and sighed. "Eventually."  
  
"How many more times are you going to fight with your mother and have a repeat of the same stress and heartache before that time comes?" Karen put a hand on her hip and gave him a stern face.  
  
Anthony shrugged.  
  
"And it's not like you don't have options," Karen went on. Anthony recognized Karen in barrister mode and his lips quirked despite himself. And though he'd had a shot of cognac and he knew the alcohol hit harder on his antidepressant, he chugged the half-bottle of beer Ben had given him. "Sören and Nicholas did offer -"  
  
" _I know_ ," Anthony said, more harshly than he intended. He took a deep breath and said more quietly, "I know."  
  
"I don't understand why you don't say yes," Karen said.  
  
Anthony looked away.  
  
"Why don't you tell us?" Ben asked. "Let us look inside that brain of yours, see what kind of sorry-arsed excuse you're making to not live with them."  
  
"It's not sorry-arsed. _I'm_ sorry-arsed." Anthony wanted to hide under the table.  
  
"No, you're not," Karen said, and sat down next to him. She put a hand on his arm, and Geir put a hand on Anthony's other arm, as if to restrain him, to keep him from taking off.  
  
Anthony huffed. Face on fire, he admitted to it. "I'm worried that... I won't be able to help out that much. I'll try to do some things, but... well... I'm handicapped. I can only do so much. I worry that's going to make them frustrated, and -"  
  
"You honestly think Sören and Nicholas would have invited you to come live with them if they hadn't considered how your mobility issues would affect things like household chores?" Karen shook her head. "Sören works on spines for a living, for God's sake. He's aware of what can realistically be expected of someone after they had a spinal injury."  
  
"OK, but -"  
  
"No buts." Karen wagged a finger at him, and then she took his chin in her hand like he was a small child, though somehow it was less infantilizing than his mother's worry. "Anthony, don't be a muppet."  
  
Anthony glared. "I am not a muppet."  
  
Karen grinned. "Hi Not A Muppet -"  
  
Anthony groaned loudly and facepalmed. He expected that sort of thing from Sören, but then, Sören was a horrible influence on others. He chuckled. "I'll think about it," he said, still worried that despite Karen's attempt to reason with him, she might be wrong.  
  
"Think about the answer being yes. What's the worst that could happen? So maybe worst-case scenario they might get a little annoyed - though I doubt it - they're not just going to throw you out onto the street, either. You _know_ how Sören is. He would help you find a place to live, maybe even help you find another roommate -"  
  
Anthony also knew that Sören could be incredibly cold and severe when pushed to his breaking point, and he worried that he might say or do something - he didn't know what - that would get Sören to that place, that would fuck everything up again. "It's still a lot to consider, Karen."  
  
"Why are you overcomplicating everything -"  
  
Anthony made a noise of frustration, feeling like his back was up against the wall. The half-growl, half-whine sounded like it wouldn't be out of place for one of the monsters on _Sesame Street_ , and sure enough, Karen teased, "You're not convincing me you're not a muppet."  
  
Then Geir, a little tipsy, patted Anthony, tousled his hair, and said, "Anthony Muppet-Johnson."  
  
Karen almost spat her drink. Anthony facepalmed and made more of the same frustrated noises, which didn't help the case against him being a muppet. Then Anthony gave Geir a look. He liked Geir, and he knew the teasing was affectionate rather than malicious - he'd missed the banter with Sören, and he was glad to have other people to banter with - but nonetheless, that was completely ridiculous.  
  
Karen tried to pull herself together and then Ben said, "No, his name's not Anthony Muppet-Johnson."  
  
"Thank you, Ben." Anthony turned to Ben with a smile. "Someone's on my side -"  
  
"His name is _Cornelius_ Anthony Muppet-Johnson," Ben said, with an innocent smile that wasn't innocent at all.  
  
"Oh my GOD. NO." Anthony buried his face in his hands and howled, half-amused, half-horrified. He shook with silent laughter despite himself. Then he realized - Ben knew his given name. He couldn't recall ever mentioning that to Ben before. He only had a C. Anthony Hewlett-Johnson listed on his business card and the public roster of personnel at his chambers, and Cornelius would be a damn lucky guess. Unless...  
  
"Oh god, Sören told you my name, didn't he." Anthony wasn't angry, really - he would have to get Sören back later.  
  
"So you're acknowledging your name is Cornelius Anthony Muppet-Johnson?" Karen grinned.  
  
"Piss off," Anthony said, and Karen doubled over, giggling.  
  
But Anthony couldn't help laughing, himself. It was so ridiculous. And the alcohol was making it even funnier.  
  
Then his phone rang. Anthony wanted to throw it across the pub and scream. He was sure it was his mother wanting to make sure he was all right, but then it was his parents' usual dinnertime and he didn't know for a fact. He was tipsy enough that he swiped to accept before he checked the number, and, deciding to err on the side of caution even though he knew it was unlikely to be someone from work or someone else he dealt with in a professional capacity, like his doctor's office, he still answered the phone in his usual business manner, by his name. Except instead of saying _Anthony Hewlett-Johnson_ , it came out wrong. "Anthony Muppet-Johnson." He caught himself. "Oh shit -"  
  
Sören's laughter on the other end. Sören lost it so hard he started snorting.  
  
The others were already in hysterics at Anthony's slip and now, with Sören's unmistakable laughter coming through the phone loud and clear, they laughed even harder. Anthony facepalmed. "Oh god..."  
  
Sören couldn't even make words, just inhuman noises. A few seconds later Sören ended the call.  
  
Anthony knew Sören would probably call back, since he'd called for a reason, and sure enough a few minutes later his phone rang again. This time Anthony did think to check the caller ID and it was in fact Sören's number. "Hello."  
  
Sören did an imitation of Kermit the Frog's voice - but with his Icelandic accent, which made it even funnier. "Heigh ho, Kermit thee Frog here. Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?"  
  
"You piss off and then you shove the next exit up your arse," Anthony said, not unkindly.  
  
"Kinky," Sören said in Kermit's voice.  
  
Anthony laughed so hard he teared up. "Wow, Sören. Just... wow." He couldn't resist teasing Sören back. "So do you have a Muppet fetish now?"  
  
Sören's normal voice again. "Jæja, clearly if I'm attracted to you."  
  
Anthony walked into that. He facepalmed again, laughing harder, his cheeks burning as his stomach fluttered and his spirit soared - _he still wants me._ And then laughed even harder - it was one of the strangest admissions of desire he'd ever heard, and that from _Sören_ , which meant it was very strange indeed. "So, why are you calling?"  
  
"Oh, I'm on break and I wanted to hear your voice. I didn't think you'd be getting freaky with Geir yet, unless he has a Muppet fetish too and his hand is up your arse or something."  
  
That was bad even for Sören. Anthony laughed so hard it _hurt_. "Goddammit." He wheezed. "Sören..."  
  
"OK, OK. Anyway, you doing all right?"  
  
"Not really, but then that's why I'm out at a bar. The squad dragged me out to karaoke." He realized then he'd called them "the squad" - the term he used to call his old crowd.  
  
They'd replaced them. That was a big step. That was a huge deal. He belonged somewhere again, but much more sincerely than before.  
  
"Oh good. Anything I can do?"  
  
"No, it's all right. Thanks, though. You holding up OK?"  
  
"Mhm. Going home in a couple hours."  
  
"OK. Well, I hope the rest of your shift isn't too bad, and... stay safe." The snow wasn't terrible, certainly it wasn't like January or February, but Anthony remembered his earlier anxiety.  
  
"You too."  
  
Anthony thought about saying _Love you,_ but he didn't. When he ended the call Karen gave him a filthy look.  
  
"Call him back and say yes," Karen said.  
  
"No," Anthony said.  
  
"You're saying no to the offer?"  
  
"No, I'm saying no to saying yes right now." Anthony gestured to himself. "I can't even get my own sodding name right. I'm not really in a position to make decisions about my living situation."  
  
Karen shook her head and rolled her eyes with a noise of exasperation.  
  
But then Geir hugged him. "All right. Karen... stop badgering the witness."  
  
Anthony guffawed; it was weirdly adorable that Geir was using courtroom speak. Geir smiled and gave Anthony a little kiss.  
  
  
_  
  
  
They were both too much under the influence to attempt sex when they got back to the flat, but more than anything else, Anthony wanted to snuggle after the sort of day he'd had, and Geir was happy to oblige.  
  
The toasty warmth of the covers, and the safe feeling of Geir against him, being in his arms, legs entwined, was peaceful and cozy, and the snow falling outside made it cozier. Anthony truly _rested_ for a little while - just what he'd needed - and then before he could drift off to sleep, his phone went off again.  
  
He had a feeling it was his mum, even though it was late, and he swiped to accept without checking the ID. "Hello."  
  
"OHHHHHHHHHH HIIIIII," came a deep, rumbly voice that sounded like Cookie Monster from _Sesame Street_. "CAN ME PLEASE SPEAK WITH ANTHONY?"  
  
"This is he," Anthony said, rolling his eyes and smiling fondly at Sören's Icelandic accent coming through the Cookie Monster imitation.  
  
"ARE YOU SURE? THERE LOT OF ANTHONYS IN ENGLAND. IS THIS... ANTHONY MUPPET-JOHNSON?" Then a soft chuckle. “Muppet johnson... that sounds like a kinky fetish.”  
  
"Sören, I swear to fucking god."  
  
Geir started shaking against him and then his laughter became less quiet.  
  
Sören went on in the Cookie Monster voice. "ME WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW ME GOT HOME SAFE. SINCE YOU TOLD ME TO STAY SAFE AND ME KNOW USUALLY YOU DON'T, SO ME THOUGHT YOU WERE HAVING ANXIETY."  
  
"You thought correctly." Anthony smiled - though he was half-asleep when Sören called, and he hadn't worked himself into a panic attack like the one he'd had in the cab riding out to Covent Garden, nonetheless, he was grateful for the update. If anything happened to Sören, he couldn't bear it. A shiver went through him despite the warmth of the room and the covers and Geir. "I'm glad you made it home safely."  
  
Sören dropped the Cookie Monster voice. "So what happened? Between you needing to go out, and telling me to stay safe..."  
  
"Oh, you know. Mum's doing... the thing again."  
  
"Well, you know..." Sören switched back into Cookie Monster mode. "ME INVITED YOU TO LIVE WITH US. ME THINK YOU BELONG WITH OTHER FURRY MONSTERS."  
  
"I beg _your pardon_ ," Nicholas said in the background.  
  
Anthony started laughing again. He could just see the look on Nicholas's face now, and probably Sören was patting his head or skritching his beard. Anthony grinned; they were cute together.  
  
He hated that he was thinking of Nicholas as attractive again, or even cute.  
  
"Also, as you know, your grammar is atrocious," Nicholas said in the background.  
  
Anthony laughed harder.  
  
"ME THANK YOU," Sören said, and then he dropped the Cookie Monster voice and said, "Seriously -"  
  
"Yeah, I know." Anthony sighed. "I still need time to think. And I'm kind of drunk."  
  
"Hi Kind of Drunk -"  
  
"Sören..."  
  
They both laughed, and Sören said, "You also sound kind of asleep so I should let you sleep. I didn't mean to wake you -"  
  
"It's all right, Sören. I appreciate you thinking about me." _More than you know._ He'd missed that care and consideration _so much._ Sören was a mother hen, but he wasn't overbearing the way Elaine could be.  
  
"I bet," Sören said, and Anthony knew then that Sören's mind was in the gutter... and now Anthony's was, too. But he was a bit too drunk to try to go there with Geir to take the edge off. They'd make up for it tomorrow.  
  
Then Sören said, "Oh before I go, there is one more thing, while we're on that note."  
  
Anthony's heart skipped a beat, and for the briefest instant he wondered if Sören was going to ask him to get back together ahead of schedule - though he knew that was probably unlikely.  
  
Sören started chuckling, and he said, "You remember when we first got together, and I left you a voice mail and I... I... started meeping?" Sören made high-pitched "meep meep meep meep" noises, like Beaker from the Muppets.  
  
"I remember." Anthony smiled. He'd found it adorable; he'd found Sören's utter dorkiness weirdly sexy.  
  
"IN HINDSIGHT... that was the Muppet mating call."  
  
"All right, piss off." Anthony's sides and face hurt now. "Sören, I swear to god..."  
  
"Meep meep meep meep," Sören meeped. Then his normal voice. "I guess I'll see you on Sunday."  
  
"Yes. See you on Sunday."  
  
Before he could end the call, Sören's Cookie Monster voice was back. "SEE? COOKIE START WITH C!"  
  
"Yes. Yes it does." _Dammit, stop making me love you even more._ His heart hurt too.  
  
Sören began to sing in the Cookie Monster voice, "C IS FOR COOKIE, THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME, C IS FOR COOKIE, THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME..."  
  
Geir was laughing too, hearing every word. Then Sören said, "YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE START WITH C? CORNELIUS! C IS FOR CORNY, THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME..."  
  
Anthony was exasperated and elated all at once. _Good enough for me._ His heart skipped a beat. They weren't back together yet, but. _But._ "Good night, IKEA." The old nickname just slipped out.  
  
"Good night, Corn." A pause. "Or should I say Corn Monster -"  
  
Anthony hit End and facepalmed with the phone in his hand. Geir buried his face in Anthony's shoulder, laughing.  
  
"Jesus." Anthony put the phone on the nightstand. "What a dork."  
  
"So are you." Geir kissed his cheek. "That's what I like."  
  
Anthony smiled, reached for Geir's hand beneath the covers, and squeezed.


	24. A Gift

Just having the day off and getting to sleep in was birthday present enough to Sören. And though Tobias woke him up, headbutting, kneading, and purring loudly, there were far worse ways to wake up, and Tobias had let him sleep until nine AM - much better than the four AM and five AM he was used to when he worked days... much better than the sound of the alarm.  
  
Tobias put his cold wet nose on Sören's nose, purring harder, and then said, "Prrrrp?" as if to ask " _Why aren't you awake yet, silly human_?"  
  
Sören chuckled and began to skritch the cat, rubbing his chin, whisker pads, and behind the ears, before rubbing his ruff and the back of his neck. Tobias headbutted him again and then turned around and put his ass right in Sören's face. Sören laughed harder. "Just what I wanted to see first thing in the morning, cat." He nonetheless rubbed the base of Tobias's spine, knowing the cat loved that, and sure enough Tobias began kneading the blankets and his butt raised up and up and up, "elevator butt" as some cat owners called it. Tobias rubbed his face on the blankets, purring and drooling. Sören continued rubbing the cat's back for a moment, then finally sat up with a yawn.  
  
"Prrrp?" Tobias turned around again and gave him a confused look, and tapped him.  
  
Sören skritched the cat's head again and stood up. He was in a heather grey T-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms. It was cold enough that he stepped right into his bunny slippers before he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. His cock was hard, as it usually was when he first woke up, and he lamented that Nicholas had to work today - he would have liked to spend the day making love. But it was what it was.  
  
After he did his morning business, it was time for coffee. He headed downstairs, with Tobias trotting at his side, meowing as if he was trying to convince Sören that he hadn't been fed before Nicholas left for school.  
  
Halfway down the stairs, Sören heard movement in the open plan kitchen and living area. He would normally attribute the sound to Tobias, but Tobias was beside him. Sören's heart skipped a beat. Yes, Geir and Karen had keys, but Karen was working today and Geir was at practice. He hoped it wasn't an intruder, and he readied himself to charge when he got to the bottom of the stairs.  
  
Nicholas was there, puttering around in the kitchen in a black bathrobe, making him coffee. Nicholas raised a hand in greeting.  
  
"Nick!" Sören was pleasantly surprised - he thought Nicholas was working today - but also concerned. He came right over and put his hand on Nicholas's forehead. "Are you OK? Are you sick? Are you -"  
  
Nicholas took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, so hard it took Sören's breath away. Sören moaned into the kiss, backing up into the kitchen counter, his cock hardening up again. When they pulled apart, breathing hard, Nicholas had a predatory look in his dark eyes that sent a shiver down Sören's spine.  
  
Nicholas gave a small, smug smile. "I asked for the day off."  
  
"And you didn't tell me."  
  
The smile broadened. "I wanted to surprise you."  
  
"Oh, you." Sören gave him a playful swat, delighted. Then he threw his arms around Nicholas's neck, moved in closer, and kissed him back, returning all of the passion and fire. Now they both moaned into the kiss, and Nicholas's hands slid down Sören's back to cup and rub his ass.  
  
The coffee was ready, and Nicholas shooed Sören to the living room to fix it for him. He glanced down at Sören's obviously tented pajama bottoms and then gave him a pointed look; Sören gave a sassy butt wiggle on the way to the couch.  
  
After Nicholas fixed Sören's cup of coffee the way he knew Sören liked it, he brought it to him, and began to massage Sören's scalp as he drank the coffee. Tobias hopped up on Sören's lap, purring, and with his free hand Sören stroked the cat. It was the perfect start to the morning of his birthday, and Sören melted into the cozy, peaceful contented bliss, savoring every second of it.  
  
It got even better when Sören finished his coffee. Usually Nicholas would be prompt about putting Sören's mug in the sink, or Sören would, but now when Sören put his mug on a coaster Nicholas grabbed Sören and kissed him again. And again. Tobias hopped down, and Nicholas pushed Sören back against the couch pillows, kissing him hungrily. Nicholas began to rub Sören's chest in slow, lazy circles, teasing a nipple here and there through the fabric, hard peaks visible in his T-shirt. Nicholas's hand slid to rub Sören's tummy, and then he began to palm the hard bulge in Sören's pajama pants. "Whatever do we have here?" Nicholas asked, stroking his beard with his free hand, giving Sören a confused look that was so comical Sören couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe we should find out." With that, Sören pulled his pajama bottoms down his thighs, freeing the hard cock. Sören looked down and gasped, and looked back at Nicholas with his mouth open in mock surprise.  
  
"What a naughty boy," Nicholas husked, moving in closer. Sören shivered at the feel of Nicholas's breath on his neck, cock leaping in response. Sören wanted to shove Nicholas down on the couch and ride him until their guests arrived that evening.  
  
But Nicholas had other plans. Now Nicholas grabbed Sören and pulled Sören onto his lap... and then over his knee. Sören's breath hitched and his cock throbbed again, knowing what was next.  
  
"I do believe you've earnt these birthday spankings, you teasing brat," Nicholas said. He caressed Sören's ass cheeks, making Sören gasp and tremble, and then his hand came down with a hard slap. "One."  
  
"Oh god, yes." Sören grabbed a couch pillow and let out a little whimper at the stinging pleasure-pain, cock pulsing.  
  
"Two." Nicholas slapped Sören's ass again. "Three..."  
  
"Oh, _fuck!_ Daddy!" Sören whimpered again and shook his ass at Nicholas, wanting more.  
  
Nicholas spanked Sören harder and harder, counting to thirty-one. Sören loved it, grinding against Nicholas's thigh, panting, whining, feeling like he was in heat, feeling almost ready to come just from the sweet sting of Nicholas's hand - the power behind it, the strength. The domination, his surrender to the man he loved, trusted, shared his life with. By the time Nicholas was done giving Sören his birthday spankings, Nicholas's robe was soaked with Sören's precum. Nicholas started gently rubbing Sören's ass again, and it felt even more delicious for being so sensitized.  
  
At last Nicholas patted Sören's ass, indicating that he should get up. Sören stood up, his cock leaving a long streamer of precum to Nicholas's robe as he did. Nicholas tsked and shook his head at Sören, though his eyes were full of mischief - and want. "You," Nicholas said, "are _very_ naughty. Look at this mess you made."  
  
"Should I clean it, Daddy?" Sören licked his lips, cock throbbing again at the thought of lapping up his precum from Nicholas's robe.  
  
"I've got something else you made a mess of that you can clean." With that, Nicholas undid the tie of his robe. He was naked underneath, fully erect, and dripping just as much precum as Sören.  
  
Sören eagerly dropped to his knees and greedily took Nicholas's cock into his mouth. Nicholas groaned as Sören began to suck him, hard and fast. After a moment Sören slowed down to tease him - and himself - and their eyes met. Nicholas groaned, and stroked Sören's cheek before grabbing a fistful of his curls.  
  
"So, so naughty." Nicholas groaned again.  
  
Sören moaned around the cock in his mouth. With one hand he cupped and rubbed Nicholas's balls, and the other hand rubbed Nicholas's shaft up and down as he focused on the head and the first inch, sucking, rubbing his tongue, kissing. Every now and again Sören took Nicholas's cock out of his mouth just to lick it, licking up and down the shaft, licking around and around the head, tongue lashing the frenum. Then, as Nicholas's moans got louder, Sören began deep-throating him, not able to help reaching down and stroking himself as he did. But he could only do that for so long, and it was back to focusing on the head, worshiping it.  
  
Nicholas pulled Sören off his cock and into a kiss. He retrieved a hollow book from the coffee table and opened it - Sören grinned at the lube - and their eyes locked as Nicholas poured a generous coating of lube over his cock, though it was plenty wet from Sören's mouth, and his own precum. Sören climbed onto Nicholas's lap again and straddled him, and Nicholas pulled off Sören's shirt. They kissed once Sören was completely naked. Sören pushed Nicholas's robe open some more and ran his hands over the silver fur of Nicholas's chest, enjoying the way it looked, the way it felt. "You're so sexy, Daddy," Sören breathed, before kissing him again.  
  
"And you, my sweet, are beautiful. A work of art as lovely as anything you paint, if not lovelier." Their eyes met again. Nicholas put his arms around Sören, pulling him close, and they kissed once more as Sören sank down onto his cock.  
  
Once Nicholas was bottomed out inside him, they both gasped for breath, savoring that first moment of being fully joined, that beautiful feeling of connection. Sören began to ride, slowly, their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's breath.  
  
"So lovely I've been thinking about this since I woke up," Nicholas murmured, and then started kissing Sören's neck.  
  
"Oh, Daddy." Sören shivered and his cock pulsed, loving the thought of Nicholas getting himself worked up fantasizing about him. His hands continued to play over Nicholas's chest again, palms rubbing the chest hair, thumbs and fingers rubbing his nipples. Nicholas groaned into Sören's neck, before nibbling on the hollow where the neck and shoulder met, making Sören cry out and tremble.  
  
Sören cried out again as Nicholas's cock stroked that sweet spot inside him. Nicholas continued to kiss, lick, and nibble Sören's neck, his own hands roaming over Sören's body. Sören tried to ride slowly, hearing himself whimper at each exquisite push and pull of Nicholas's cock, teasing. But the sensation of Nicholas moving inside him, and Nicholas's hands on him, Nicholas's mouth on his neck, and Sören's own lust for Nicholas's body all combined into a fevered frenzy, and soon Sören was bucking wildly on Nicholas's lap, riding his cock harder and harder, his cries followed by Nicholas's deeper groans and growls.  
  
When Nicholas took Sören's cock in his hand, Sören almost came right then. The pleasure kept building and building, the tight grip around his cock, the rhythm inside him. Sören never wanted it to end, completely lost in passion. They started kissing again, moaning into the kisses, and at that moment of truth, when Sören was right there, the kiss broke and their eyes locked.  
  
"Daddy." Sören gave a little howling whimper. "Oh god. Daddy -"  
  
"Yes, sweetheart. Come for Daddy."  
  
"Oh, god, _yes_..." Sören threw his head back and let out a fierce, wordless cry as his seed sprayed Nicholas's chest, the release pulsing through him. A few seconds later Nicholas gave a cry of his own and kissed Sören again, groaning into the kiss as he shuddered and Sören felt Nicholas shooting inside him. Sören loved that feeling of a lover's seed spent into him, and he moaned with another contraction.  
  
Sören rested on Nicholas's shoulder as they caught their breath. Then Nicholas cradled Sören and began to rock him a little, rubbing his nose in Sören's curls, tender little kisses atop his head. "I love you," Nicholas said softly, arms tightening around him.  
  
"I love you too." Sören kissed Nicholas's heart, and then gave Nicholas a nose kiss, making the older man smile, smiling more broadly as Sören skritched his whiskers.  
  
They cuddled like that for awhile, holding each other, dazed from the intensity of their orgasm. After just snuggling up, Nicholas started petting Sören's curls, peppering his face with kisses. They rubbed noses and Sören gave him a kiss. Sweet, soft kisses became more lingering, until their tongues were playing together again, hands roaming.  
  
Nicholas patted Sören and looked at the time. "You should have breakfast. What would you like to eat?"  
  
Sören was feeling randy again and couldn't resist. "Something French," he said with a wicked grin.  
  
It took Nicholas a few seconds and then his eyes widened and his mouth opened... and then he started laughing, a full-bodied laugh that lit up his entire face. Sören loved it, grinning back. Nicholas kissed him, and swatted Sören's ass.  
  
"All right, you. Upstairs."  
  
Sören and Nicholas went upstairs - Sören couldn't help laughing at the hilarity of them climbing the stairs with hard cocks, bobbing with each step, and Nicholas laughed too. When they got to the top of the steps Nicholas pulled Sören against him and they stopped laughing as they kissed, hard cocks rubbing together, hands caressing, exploring.  
  
Nicholas marched Sören towards the bedroom and when they stepped through the bedroom door Nicholas slapped Sören's ass again, making Sören's cock jolt and drip precum. Sören moaned.  
  
"If you're going to act like an animal in heat, you'll take it like one. Lie down," Nicholas commanded.  
  
Those words in that deep velvet voice... Sören let out a whine as he climbed onto the bed, laying on his stomach, grinding his hard cock against the bed, going out of his mind with lust. Nicholas climbed over him, laying on top of Sören's back, and he nibbled on the back of Sören's neck and shoulder as he took him. Sören cried out, fisting the sheets, bucking against him.  
  
"Oh god." Sören usually preferred to make love face-to-face, where he could look at his lover's body, but once in awhile being taken from behind was _hot_ , and this was the perfect time for it. Sören felt shameless, needy, wanton, and loved it. He rocked his hips back at Nicholas as Nicholas began to thrust. "Oh, _fuck_..."  
  
Nicholas grabbed Sören's hair and continued biting Sören's neck and shoulder, tongue licking where his teeth had been, soothing, arousing. Sören whimpered and grabbed the sheets, grinding harder against the mattress. "Oh, Daddy. _Daddy_..."  
  
Nicholas groaned. "You like that, don't you?"  
  
"God, _yes_..." Sören whined again, and tilted his head towards Nicholas's, panting, looking into Nicholas's dark, burning eyes, letting Nicholas see the desperate need in his own.  
  
Nicholas kissed him deeply, fiercely, and they both moaned into the kiss. One of Nicholas's arms went around Sören, taking his hand. Their tongues teased, and Sören's whimper was answered by Nicholas's deeper groan. Nicholas went back and forth between nibbling, kissing, and licking the back of Sören's neck, and claiming his mouth, and between the kisses, the slap of their bodies, the feel of Nicholas's chest hair against his back, the weight of Nicholas's body atop him - keeping him safe - and the stroking of Nicholas inside him, the rubbing against the sheets... the feeling of total abandon... Sören climbed to that edge and stayed there, moaning louder and louder. And then he started giving in, letting out an urgent little howl as he felt that buildup, about to explode.  
  
"I'm gonna -"  
  
"Yes, darling."  
  
Sören screamed into the pillows, shaking, his second orgasm just as powerful as the first, sinking, soaring. Nicholas groaned and trembled, and Sören moaned as he felt Nicholas flow into him again. Nicholas squeezed Sören's hand and Sören turned his head so they could kiss again.  
  
Feeling Nicholas cuddle atop him was safe and warm and sweet, until the weight got to be too heavy and Sören felt too hot. Just before he could ask Nicholas to climb off him, Nicholas did it without being told and rolled Sören, pulling Sören against his chest, into his arms. Sören smiled, kissing Nicholas's shoulder before he rubbed his nose in the chest hair. That was better.  
  
"Such a good start to my birthday," Sören said, and gave a happy little sigh.  
  
"I'm glad." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. Then he frowned a little. "I hope you're not upset that I didn't tell you I planned to take today off. I didn't want to lie to you, but -"  
  
"Well, you didn't, I just assumed you were working today and you didn't tell me otherwise." Sören shrugged.  
  
"I did want to surprise you, and it's harder to do with us living together."  
  
"I was very surprised." Sören skritched Nicholas's beard and smiled - Nicholas smiled back. Sören didn't want Nicholas to feel guilty about it; he knew he had trust issues because of past history with Anthony, but Nicholas was always honest with him and Sören saw this as different circumstances.  
  
"All right." Nicholas exhaled, and Sören thought the relief was almost palpable. Then Nicholas began to chuckle.  
  
"What?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
Nicholas laughed harder, turning beetroot. He attempted to sober himself to explain what was going through his head, though mischief still danced in his dark eyes, and he asked, "So... does this count as surprise buttsex?"  
  
Sören facepalmed and started to laugh so hard his sides cramped and his face hurt, tearing up. It was _such_ an old meme, but clearly, new to Nicholas. "You memed."  
  
"I did."  
  
Sören grinned and kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose, and laughed harder at how proud Nicholas was of himself for memeing... how ridiculous and surreal it was for his overly formal, at-times-too-serious partner to be memeing. "We'll make a memelord of you yet."  
  
Nicholas attempted to give a disapproving look, though his eyes were still laughing. "Shan't."  
  
Sören gigglesnorted and snuggled closer to him. This was already the best birthday ever.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören's birthday dinner was at Balthazar: besides Sören and Nicholas, Anthony, Geir, Karen, Craig, Pierre and Ben were in attendance.  
  
Nicholas had wanted to bake a birthday cake for Sören, but Sören thought a birthday cake big enough for eight people was a lot of trouble - plus having enough for leftovers, and for Anthony to take home cake to his parents. Karen had also offered, but Sören felt she was already pressed enough for time between her job and school. So Karen and Geir had insisted to spring for a cake from a bakery, at the very least, and though Nicholas was aghast at the idea of a store-bought cake, that was nonetheless the plan.  
  
When they reached their flat, Nicholas asked Sören, "Do you want to open gifts first, or have cake first?"  
  
"Gifts," Sören said, patting his stomach. "I'm still pretty full from dinner."  
  
Ben and Pierre gave Sören their gift first, a present from both of them. It was in a card. The card was a pop-up card that played music - cats meowing "Happy Birthday". Sören laughed at the card, and smiled at the gift certificate inside, for Build-A-Bear Workshop.  
  
"We thought you might want a friend for your bunny," Ben said; he and Pierre had heard the story of Nicholas fixing Sören's blue bunny from childhood.  
  
Sören hugged both of them. Pierre kissed him on both cheeks, French style, and when they pulled apart their eyes met and Sören's face was on fire, wondering what Pierre's lips would feel like on his.  
  
 _Stop that._  
  
Karen and Geir also had a present from both of them. Sören unwrapped a beautiful wool sweater, made in Iceland, a deep grey-blue with a knotwork pattern of beige, cream, and light grey. "Oh my god." He fingered the wool, admiring the feel of the texture. He also knew that these sorts of sweaters weren't cheap.  
  
"We know you haven't been back to Iceland in a long time, so we wanted to bring a little of Iceland to you." Karen smiled at him.  
  
Sören got choked up again and hugged and kissed them. He was at a place where he was starting to consider going for a visit someday, whereas even a year ago he hadn't been planning on it. The trauma from what had prompted him to leave his country was still there, but he knew he wouldn't be going back alone, and he felt safer going with someone else. And even when he hadn't been considering going back at all, he still missed Iceland, still ached for the wild beauty of the land where he'd spent the first twenty-five years of his life.  
  
"Well, now I feel weird giving him my gift," Craig said.  
  
"What, is it the same sweater?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
"No, but it's close enough that -"  
  
Sören made the "give it" gesture. "If it's another Icelandic sweater, I swear to you I will love it."  
  
"It's not a sweater."  
  
Sören couldn't resist. "Is it an Icelandic codpiece? I'll love it even more."  
  
Craig facepalmed and laughed, then tossed the package at Sören, shaking his head, his cheeks pink. Sören took a moment to admire the elegant plaid wrapping paper and the curly gold bow, before ripping it open, while Craig cringed, and Sören realized Craig had probably wrapped it himself. He almost felt guilty, except then Craig's face broke into a big grin at Sören's enthusiasm.  
  
It was an Icelandic wool blanket, a muted green with a pattern of muted gold leaves and flowers. Sören loved it; he let out a squeak and hugged Craig tight. Anthony looked at the blanket with something like surprise, as if he couldn't imagine someone like Craig would pick out something so careful and tasteful, but then Sören had a feeling what the surprise actually was - in their dreams, other-Anthony had been fond of wearing green and gold, and it had carried to his children and the members of his house. Sören and Anthony's eyes met, Anthony's eyes green like the blanket.  
  
"This is so nice," Sören said sincerely, wrapping the blanket around himself. "Perfect for getting cozy with." He had a Pusheen blanket he used for the same purpose, but now he could cuddle in two blankets, or go back and forth between them.  
  
Craig's smile was soft. "You're my big security blanket."  
  
Sören pulled him close and rained kisses over Craig's face. He fought the urge to drag Craig off like a caveman and make him scream. He patted Craig's head and stroked his cheek. "You're such a good boy."  
  
Craig bit his lip, smiling, bowing his head slightly, a submissive gesture that intensified Sören's urge to ream him till the sun came up.  
  
Nicholas and Anthony looked at each other. Nicholas gave Anthony the "go ahead" gesture.  
  
"You can go first if you want to," Anthony said, seeming almost self-conscious about his gift.  
  
"You may if you like."  
  
"It's OK, I don't mind you going first."  
  
"I don't mind _you_ going first -"  
  
"Guys, guys." Sören put up his hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose, chuckling. "Swear to god, you're like brothers." A frisson went down his spine, wondering if Nicholas had the kind of dreams they did, and if those dreams even meant anything. Sören retrieved a coin from where Nicholas kept coins in a candy dish to make exact change on the occasions he paid with cash - he was one of those people, which Sören found delightfully old-fashioned - and he said, "Mkay. Heads, Anthony goes, tails, Nick goes." His mind went into the gutter with a mental image of giving Anthony head while Nicholas rode his "tail", taking him from behind as he had this morning. _Fuck._ Sören took a deep breath, not wanting to get worked up again, and flipped the coin.  
  
It landed heads.  
  
Anthony pulled out a box from a shopping bag. It was wrapped in blue holographic foil paper with a sparkly, iridescent silver bow - Anthony had outdone Craig's wrapping job but in this case Sören knew either Anthony had that professionally gift wrapped or his mother had done it. Sören still didn't mind. He tore off the wrapping paper - now it was Anthony's turn to cringe. Tobias came out from the cat tree, where he'd been taking a nap, and attacked the wrapping paper, making it crinkle. He absconded with the bow in his mouth, his prize.  
  
The box was plain cardboard, which meant it could be anything. Sören opened it and inside was a golden metal pineapple.  
  
Sören lost it, falling over on Anthony. It was so utterly _ludicrous_ \- which he knew was the point. It made Sören ache, missing what they'd had. All of the many, many moments of laughter, especially when they encouraged each other's eccentric sense of humor. "What in the actual fuck?"  
  
Anthony's lips quirked. "Open it."  
  
The top of the pineapple was a lid - it was a container - and inside the pineapple was something that made Sören gasp. Something he hadn't seen in years.  
  
In January 2013, not long after Anthony proposed to him, Anthony's maternal grandmother Sören had given Sören an outrageously expensive gift - a genuine House of Fabergé egg, an iridescent robin's egg blue, wrapped with silver vines, on a stand of silver scrollwork with pearls. When the egg opened, there was a silver phoenix on the inside.  
  
Sören had left the egg behind when he left Anthony, because even though it was a gift for _him_ , Sören didn't feel right about taking it, feeling Anthony should have something from his grandmother. But now...  
  
"She would have wanted you to have it." Anthony's eyes were a little too bright as he met Sören's.  
  
"Inside of a gaudy gold pineapple?" Sören couldn't resist the attempt at humor.  
  
"Listen, it makes more sense than me getting you pregnant."  
  
At the memory of Anthea asking Anthony "when are you going to put a baby in him", Sören laughed so hard he teared up again, and now Anthony was laughing too, wiping his eyes both at the humor and the memory of his beloved grandmother. Sören hugged Anthony tight and restrained the urge to kiss him full on the mouth, with tongue. He restrained the urge to drag Anthony to bed and ask Nicholas for a threesome. But the emotions were overwhelming... and of course Anthony had put the egg in the pineapple to defuse Sören's discomfort with it.  
  
"There's still more," Anthony said.  
  
Sören narrowed his eyes, hoping there wasn't something ridiculously expensive inside.  
  
It was a gift card to Greenleaf... and a wooden kazoo. Sören erupted into laughter once more, and Anthony took a bow.  
  
Nicholas was looking at them like they were aliens that had just landed, which made Sören and Anthony look at each other and laugh even harder.  
  
"We're adults," Anthony said, beaming.  
  
"Clearly," Nicholas said.  
  
"Yes, very... adult themed." With that, Sören took the kazoo and began to play the sax solo from "Careless Whisper".  
  
Nicholas shook his head with an eyeroll, and a smile. Then he regarded the egg carefully. "That's House of Fabergé. As you know, there are very few in the world..."  
  
"Yes, very limited," Anthony said. "My grandmother was wealthy."  
  
Nicholas gave a somewhat disapproving look. "It belongs in a museum."  
  
"Nick. She gave me that as a gift, before she died. I... didn't take it with me when we broke up, but..." Sören sighed, feeling slightly exasperated, even though he knew Nicholas meant well, being a historian. "It's not even about how much it's worth. It's sentimental value. Anthea was quite a character."  
  
"All right. I shan't press you about it," Nicholas said.  
  
"I'll donate it to a museum when I die," Sören said. "In the meantime..." He picked up the egg - carefully - and began to pat it. "Mine."  
  
"My preciousssssssss," Ben said in a Gollum voice.  
  
Sören knew Ben was trying to be funny, but he found that vaguely offensive. He'd had very few nice things in his life, coming from poverty, and the egg was _art_. He knew that maybe it was "more fair" for the egg to be in a museum for the world to see and admire, but it was a tribute to a great lady who had raised a wonderful daughter who had helped shape Anthony into the man he was, and Sören felt ever so slightly possessive. He put down the egg, shot Ben a look and Ben said, "Sorry. Just trying to make you laugh."  
  
"I know," Sören said, feeling guilty for being crabby.  
  
Then Nicholas cleared his throat and handed Sören an envelope. "It's not as fabulous as a genuine House of Fabergé egg, but..."  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake." Sören didn't want Nicholas to feel like he was competing with Anthony. "Anthony was regifting me something. Without the egg, it's a golden pineapple and a kazoo and a gift card to Greenleaf."  
  
"It's a seventy-five quid pineapple," Anthony said, also trying to be funny.  
  
Sören did find that funny - he couldn't believe the pineapple cost that much. "Seriously? That's even worse."  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly.  
  
Inside was the details for a vacation package to Hawaii in February, for their one-year anniversary. Overcome with giddy joy - all the pictures he'd ever seen of Hawaii were breathtaking - Sören jumped up and down, screaming, enough that he scared Tobias, which was amusing and made Sören feel bad at the same time. Then Sören pounced on Nicholas and kissed him passionately, laughing and crying. "Oh Nick. Oh my god. Nick. _Nick._ "  
  
Nicholas patted Sören. "As you know, it will be less hot in Hawaii in February than it would be during the summer months, and..."  
  
"Shut up and kiss me."  
  
Nicholas kissed Sören back, and then he touched Sören's cheek, looking into his eyes as they rubbed noses. Sören loved him so much he felt like he could break.  
  
"Dad already asked us to watch Tobias for a week," Geir said.  
  
"Thank you, guys," Sören said, and Karen nodded.  
  
Tobias came when his name was called and rubbed up against Geir and Karen for pettings, then hopped up on Sören and gave him headbutts, climbing into his arms for a hug. Sören held the cat and stroked him, smiling at the loud purr. "That's my good Toby. I'm gonna miss you, Toby, but you'll be good for Uncle Geir and Aunt Karen, right?"  
  
"His name is Tobias," Nicholas muttered, but then gave Sören a little smirk - he knew by now Sören did it to get a rise out of him and he wasn't really annoyed, he played along. Sören attempted a wink, though it always came off as a clumsy blink.  
  
Nicholas gave the cat some skritches - and then Sören, too - before he got up from the couch. "All right. I do believe it's time for cake."  
  
Nicholas walked to the kitchen, and when he opened the cake box his face fell. "Er."  
  
Sören's eyebrows shot up, wondering if the cake was damaged or had something else wrong with it, like mold, though he knew Karen and Geir wouldn't use a sketchy bakery.  
  
"Yeah, we. Ah." Geir scratched his head with a guilty look. "We were going to warn you and didn't know a good time for it."  
  
"What is it?" Sören got right up - that sounded bad - and he went over to the kitchen where Nicholas was looking at the cake like he was looking at a car wreck.  
  
"They fumbled with the writing on the cake rather badly," Karen said, looking apologetic. "There wasn't enough time to order a new one -"  
  
Sören almost fell over when he saw the cake, bracing himself on the counter, doubled over, snorting. "Oh my god. IT'S BEAUTIFUL."

The cake was large and round, covered with white frosting and a tacky ring of pink frosting roses, and the cake said _Happy Birthday Soren With An Umlaut_.  
  
"We tried," Karen said, making a face.  
  
Anthony got up on his cane and hobbled to the kitchen to see it for himself and then he lost it too. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh -"  
  
"Yes, you should. THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING CAKE EVER," Sören said; he genuinely loved it. "I need pictures right fucking now." With that, he took out his cell phone and began to take pictures of the cake, then Anthony took Sören's phone so he could get some photos of Sören with the cake, giving the thumbs up with an exaggerated smile in one picture, then the thumbs up with a less enthusiastic, pleading look in another. Sören grabbed Nicholas for another picture with the cake, with Nicholas looking underwhelmed.  
  
Ben and Pierre also cracked up laughing at the cake. "Are you sure you didn't do that on purpose?" Ben asked, giving Karen a suspicious look.  
  
"I didn't," Karen said. "Although clearly this needs to become a yearly tradition."  
  
"I agree," Sören said. "I'm going to be assmad if I don't get a 'Happy Birthday Soren With An Umlaut' cake next year." Sören stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I wonder if we could get a dick-shaped one."  
  
" _Sören Sigurðsson._ " Nicholas gave him a stern look, but his eyes were laughing again.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When the other guests went home, it was just Anthony, Sören and Nicholas. Anthony was letting his mother give him a ride back, even though Anthony had been taking a cab most of the time as of late, to try to take back his independence - Elaine wanted to stop in and wish Sören a happy birthday herself.  
  
"This was the best birthday," Sören said. Then, not wanting Anthony to feel bad, he quickly added, "Well... the one in Switzerland was pretty awesome too."  
  
Anthony smiled and patted him.  
  
Then Sören looked at the gold pineapple, which was now sitting on their coffee table and being used as a candy dish. Sören pulled out a peppermint swirl from the pineapple, unwrapped it, and began sucking on it - then realized where the urge to start sucking on something came from. He once again fought the urge to tell Anthony to call Elaine and tell her not to pick him up, and invite Anthony to bed with them. But they still needed time, and Sören wasn't sure Nicholas would be too keen on the idea of a threesome... or Anthony himself, for that matter.  
  
Sören quickly tried to push the thought away, because _he_ was keen on the idea and he needed to have some self-control.  
  
"So," Anthony said, "I'm sorry that my gift was kind of a regift."  
  
"I'm not," Sören said. "You could have kept that egg for yourself."  
  
"Well, I decided to get you a gift card to Greenleaf - so you could pick out what you wanted for yourself, I wasn't sure what to get you - but I felt tacky just putting it inside a card, even though I see you liked the card Ben and Pierre got you so I'll make a note of that for next year."  
  
Sören smiled that Anthony was mentioning a next year.  
  
Then Anthony went on, "So I wanted something to put the gift card in, and I thought about the egg... but I didn't want you to refuse the egg right away."  
  
"No, the egg has a friend." Sören patted the pineapple. "It would be mean to separate them."  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped and then he cracked up laughing. "Dammit, Sören..."  
  
Sören smiled; he was glad Anthony appreciated his weird sense of humor. "I'll have to think of a name for each of them."  
  
"Oh my _god_..."  
  
When Anthony calmed down, he gave Sören a serious look. "But seriously... the gift was OK?"  
  
"It was more than OK, Anthony. Every gift I got was good." Then Sören couldn't resist nagging, since he knew Elaine was coming and he knew Anthony was still feeling smothered. "But you know what I really want for my birthday?"  
  
Anthony cocked his head to one side and folded his arms, expecting a bombshell.  
  
"For you to accept our offer to move in with us." Sören grabbed him and shook him a little. "Anthony. For real. You've lived with me before. Was I _that_ bad to live with?" He had been trying not to think that way, since they'd been so happy together until the end, but it had started to rankle him here and there, wondering if that was the real reason why Anthony was refusing, if some sort of distaste for or resentment of his habits had contributed to the way things went back then.  
  
"Oh god, Sören, no." Anthony looked like he'd been slapped. Now he grabbed Sören and hugged him fiercely. "Sören..." Anthony gave a shuddery little sigh. "I loved living with you. You were my home. My sanctuary."  
  
Sören's arms tightened around him, relieved to hear that.  
  
Anthony pulled back and frowned. "OK. Let me just... lay my cards out on the table." He pressed his hand to his forehead and winced like something had hit a nerve. Sören braced himself. Anthony took a deep breath and said, "I have concerns about how my injury is going to affect my ability to contribute to the household and my fear is that I'll wear out my welcome sooner rather than later."  
  
Nicholas stopped washing dishes in the kitchen. "Anthony, if I may..."  
  
Anthony gave Nicholas a "go ahead" gesture.  
  
Nicholas put his hands on his hips and gave Anthony a stern look. "When I made the suggestion to Sören that you should stay with us, I had indeed considered your limited mobility. We're not inviting you because we want a manservant."  
  
Sören nodded. "I mean, if you start wrecking the place everywhere you go and don't pick up after yourself then there might be an issue. But you do realize I'm kind of familiar with the human spine..." He smirked, because of course that was an understatement. "And I have a pretty good idea of what you can and can't do with your injury. Like Nick said, we're not expecting you to be our new housekeeper."  
  
"I shan't object if you want to wash a few dishes, or tidy up here and there," Nicholas said. "Just do what you can, and what you feel up to. Otherwise, don't make too much extra work for us - I imagine you wouldn't be much trouble - and we'll take care of the rest."  
  
"I can do that," Anthony said, nodding. "I just feel guilty -"  
  
"I know," Sören said, patting him. "But it'll be OK. And if it turns out to not be OK... we'll help you find another living arrangement. We won't push you out onto the street."  
  
Anthony hugged him, and Sören felt him crying, though he tried to keep it silent. Sören hugged him tight again and rocked him a little. "So..." Sören rubbed his back. "Is that a yes?"  
  
Anthony picked his head up and nodded through his tears.  
  
Anthony managed to pull himself together before Elaine got up to the flat. Nicholas served her tea and cake and Sören showed off his birthday gifts, and showed Elaine a photo of the cake before it was cut, which made Elaine laugh. Then Sören said, "There's another gift that your son got me."  
  
"Oh?" Elaine gave him a curious look.  
  
Sören looked at Anthony and nodded. Anthony cleared his throat and said, "Mum, Sören and Nicholas asked me to move in with them, and I said yes."  
  
"Oh." Elaine looked happy and sad all at once. "When?"  
  
Anthony and Sören looked at each other. "As soon as you want," Sören said, "though I imagine you'd want to do it soon and honestly it'd be easier to do it before it starts to snow more."  
  
"First week of December, then?" Anthony asked.  
  
"That's fine with us," Nicholas said.  
  
Elaine looked at Nicholas, then Sören, and Sören got the feeling Elaine assumed Anthony was in some sort of ménage à trois arrangement with them. Sören wasn't going to correct that assumption, both because he knew it was probably awkward for Anthony to talk about the details of his sex life or lack thereof with his parents, and also because he didn't want to say "we're not" _in case it ends up becoming a thing later._  
  
Sören internally kicked himself. _Don't get your hopes up._  
  
But he did feel a glimmer of hope, nonetheless, that somehow things would be OK with him and Anthony again, with time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I photoshopped the cake!


	25. Onward

"How are you settling into your new living situation?"  
  
"Things are going well so far," Anthony said.  
  
It was December fifth now; the weekend of November twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth, Roger and Elaine had helped him move most of his belongings over to Sören and Nicholas's flat. It wasn't everything - he still had furniture and items like his lava lamps and Gavin Rossdale poster in what would revert to "his old room", where he was still welcome to stay as a guest. And he still had a number of items in storage after moving out of the flat in Kingston, though he was starting to grapple with the likelihood that he was going to have to downsize for the eventual move from Sören and Nicholas's flat into his own studio, a necessarily small flat that would be easier to clean and keep up with.  
  
But Sören and Nicholas had said he could stay with them for a year, possibly longer if he absolutely needed to, and he was encouraged to make the guest bedroom feel like his home rather than just someplace to sleep. He was mostly unpacked now, and this upcoming weekend Sören and Nicholas were going to take him to get things like bedding and curtains he picked out himself, maybe a small area rug or two.  
  
Anthony found himself nervous about that. It wasn't that he minded Nicholas and Sören wanting him to feel more like he lived there and was part of the household rather than just a guest - he knew being politely tolerated would take its toll on him, sooner rather than later. It was precisely that it still felt _surreal_ to be welcome, to be treated like family by someone who had hated him until a few months ago, and another who was initially so wary and suspicious of him. He was afraid of getting too comfortable, doing things like fixing his room up to his liking and have everything come crashing down on him when he stepped out of line.  
  
"You seem a little anxious for someone who says it's going well," Helen said.  
  
Anthony both appreciated how observant she was and hated it at the same time, and he especially hated it at moments like this. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "But it's normal, I guess, to feel a little weird in a new place? Especially when it wasn't so long ago that both parties didn't like me very much?"  
  
"It's very normal," Helen said. "I just wanted to make sure you were aware of your own anxiety. We can't deal with problems we don't recognize, after all."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony sighed.  
  
"What about it is making you anxious? Is it just the new environment, or is the history?"  
  
"It's more the history," Anthony said, "and, well. Even though I'm very familiar with Sören and lived with him before, this is... different. If you'd told me at the beginning of the year that by December I'd be living with Sören again - but as friends - and with his partner, I'd have said you were daft. Not just that Sören's on his way to forgiving me, but that his partner doesn't hate me, after what I'd done. I'm getting a second chance... and I'm afraid of blowing it. Like saying or doing something that inadvertently causes offense."  
  
"Just an outside observation here, everything you've told me about both of them, it seems like it would take a lot for it to get to that point. Especially since you've disclosed to them that you're neurodivergent, I'm sure they would understand any missteps would likely be unintentional."  
  
"Maybe," Anthony said. "I'm still worried about things like not contributing enough to the upkeep of the flat... even though we talked about that and they're not expecting much... I also feel like I should be paying them rent. I'm contributing to food, but they're not asking me for rent right now while I'm not working. I have money in savings but that's not going to last indefinitely, and won't last long at all if I'm paying for rent out of that."  
  
Helen leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands. Anthony recognized that own posture as one of his own, when he'd just found an advantage in a case. He braced himself.  
  
"How close are you to being ready to go back to work?" Helen asked.  
  
Anthony sighed and looked down. _That_ made him even more anxious than potentially committing a faux pas with Sören or Nicholas serious enough to make them decide he shouldn't live there anymore. He knew that he was still a barrister, he still had training and instincts, he had been _good_ , Crown Prosecution had feared him enough to call him the Shark. He worried that some of his former colleagues would see him hobbling on a cane in the courtroom and would see it as a sign of weakness, a vulnerability to be exploited, especially if he showed any trace of discomfort with being gawped at, possibly being pitied. But he also knew that he was feeling restless. Law had been his _calling_ , and one of the most traumatic things about the accident was the way it had taken him out of commission for awhile, severed him from that calling. He needed to face his fear of whatever people might think of seeing him using a cane and just do it, show the British court system that he was still just as lethal as ever, that it was his mind, his words, that mattered.  
  
He also didn't want to go back to Lincoln's Inn immediately. The holidays were coming up, and he didn't want to resume and get into a routine just to be thrown out of it within the next couple of weeks.  
  
"After the holidays," Anthony said. "Sometime in early January." That was soon, but that would give him enough time to notify Lincoln's Inn that he was returning, and it would give him enough time to go shopping for new suits to accommodate his weight loss, and perhaps a fancier cane than the wooden one he used to get around.  
  
"That sounds good," Helen said. "I assume you'll need to change your therapy schedule up if you're working days again."  
  
"Probably," Anthony said. "I'd have to go back to once a week, and either come in later that morning, which means staying later that evening, or scheduling an hour in the afternoon for a video chat session." He exhaled, not wanting to lose Helen as a therapist. "Would you still be able to -"  
  
"I'm willing to, but it depends on schedule and my availability, if I'm not already booked with someone else at the time you're looking at each week." Helen tilted her head slightly. "How soon do you think you'll know your new schedule?"  
  
"Probably immediately after I send off my return notice and get a reply back," Anthony said. "It likely won't be different from my old schedule. Which... I sometimes don't get a lot of notice before I have to go to court, and that may mean having to cancel or postpone a session." He frowned. "I realize that's not conducive to therapy -"  
  
"You're not the only professional in therapy, there are usually ways to work around scheduling conflicts. I don't know how you feel about evenings, or Saturday mornings. We would have to assign you someone else in that case, but you would also be consistently seen."  
  
"I'll think about it. I have some time...?" Anthony _really_ didn't want to lose Helen as a therapist, and now his anxiety intensified.  
  
"You have some time," Helen said, nodding.  
  
Anthony reached over to grab the squishy shark toy on Helen's shelf of fidget toys, and began to stretch and squish the shark to take the edge off.  
  
"I know this is a new chapter of your life and it feels like a lot is happening at once," Helen said, her dark eyes sympathetic and warm.  
  
"It feels like an entire new _book_ ," Anthony said, "not a chapter."  
  
"A new book starts with the first chapter, Anthony."  
  
"Touché."  
  
  
_  
  
  
It still felt strange to come back to the flat and be the only one there; Sören and Nicholas were both at work. Tobias trotted right over with an excited chirp, and Anthony felt a little guilty about not being able to stoop to pet him, but once he made his way to the couch the cat hopped up beside him and Anthony chuckled as Tobias climbed into his arms. He kissed the top of the cat's head and began to stroke, soothed by the deep, rumbly purr.  
  
For a few minutes Anthony just sat, listening to the sound of the cat purring, and the rain falling outside. He got up to make himself tea, and Tobias decided to walk into the kitchen and eat. As Anthony sat on the couch with his tea, he collected his thoughts about the e-mail he was going to send to his chambers. The anxiety started up again, and he took some deep breaths, making himself focus.  
  
When he finished his tea he went upstairs. This was the thing he liked least about living with Sören and Nicholas - the bedrooms were on the second floor. There weren't a _lot_ of stairs - Nicholas had arthritis and he liked climbing stairs about as well as Anthony did - but Anthony still felt like he'd run for kilometers by the time he reached the top of the stairs, out of breath, heart racing. He hobbled down to his room and sat at the small desk, turning on his laptop. Before he could lose his nerve, he opened a tab for his e-mail and fired off a message to those it concerned, letting them know he was planning on returning to work on Monday, January fourth, 2016. One month from today.  
  
He didn't expect a reply immediately, though he knew he'd be receiving a reply the same day. He looked at the clock. It was just before one PM. Geir was coming over and spending the night, though they weren't spending the week together - Geir had practice tomorrow, and Geir was spending time with Luc in the evening; Anthony would be going out shopping tomorrow evening after Sören got out of work.  
  
Anthony decided to take a nap, so he'd be able to stay up late with Geir; having a rest charged his batteries enough to be able to go more than one round. He lay there for a bit, feeling unsettled after his appointment with Helen, and the nerves it had struck. Worrying that he'd make some sort of misstep with Geir, too, and that would make things awkward for everyone. But at last Tobias purred and kneaded him to sleep.  
  
  
_  
  
  
He is driving in his Audi, listening to Jamiroquai. And then the red-and-yellow McLaren runs the light and crashes into him. The car is shoved as the windshield explodes and the airbag pops up, and Anthony is thrown forward, face into the airbag. He can feel glass cutting into his skin, he can feel himself bleeding, he can feel his body moving in ways it shouldn't move, the nauseating crack of his ribs, his shoulder pulling.  
  
 _I'm going to fucking die._  
  
He is hovering on the edge of consciousness, but now he is looking at the accident like an observer and he sees the wreck of his car, sees himself slumped into the airbag, bleeding out, sees the wreck of the McLaren nearby. His eyes meet the eyes of the other driver, a young man with a light tan and a dirty-blond fauxhawk, and the eyes are blue, then suddenly orange, burning, _unholy_. The man gives him an evil, bloody smile that chills him to the bone before the light in his eyes goes out and he dies.  
  
Suddenly he's standing on a rocky field, under a dark sky. He sees a burning orange eye on a banner, an army covered in shadow; he gets the impression they are stealing the very light from the world.

He sees creatures made of fire and smoke and ash.  
  
He raises his sword and points at the opposing army for his own to charge. _I'm going to die. I'm going to join my brothers. I will avenge the evil that took them._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony woke up with a shout.  
  
He gasped for breath; he was shaking as he sat up.  
  
Tobias hopped up on the bed with a concerned "Prrrp?" and began to headbutt him, purring loudly. Tobias stood up, putting his front paws on Anthony's shoulder, and started headbutting Anthony's face.  
  
Anthony managed a smile as he scooped up the cat into his arms and rocked a little, letting the cat's purr soothe him. He rubbed his nose against the top of Tobias's head. "Good kitty. That's a good boy."  
  
He glanced over at the clock. It was a quarter of three. He'd napped for longer than the hour he wanted to, but it wasn't terribly late.  
  
Anthony carried Tobias over to the desk and Tobias sat on the desk like he owned it while Anthony checked his e-mail. Sure enough, he had a reply from his chambers, welcoming him back and letting him know they would be ready for him on January fourth. Anthony smiled, though his heart started racing again. He glanced at his cane, then the screen, and swallowed hard.  
  
His mind began to play the bad dream again. He'd had several nightmares since the accident - Helen said that was normal, and a sign that he had PTSD - but this one was the most intense yet. He also didn't like the way it looped into his dreams of "before", the dreams he and Sören used to share of what felt like another lifetime, long ago. The banner in his dream reminded him of something out of _Lord of the Rings_ except the banner was more evil-looking - it looked like it had been made of fire and ash, on a pole of bones held together with ichor - and the war he was in was far more nightmarish, the world far more dystopian.  
  
Far more real. What he'd seen in his dream was like nothing that could be written about, or put on a screen. What he'd _felt_ coming from the opposing army, like an empathic wall of pure hatred, killing for its own sake, savoring death and destruction and torment...  
  
Anthony shuddered. He hated even thinking of it.  
  
 _OK, look,_ he told himself, going right into lawyer mode. _Clearly that dream was symbolic. You're afraid of this new chapter in your life, afraid of going back to work, afraid of pissing off everyone you care about, being on your own out there in the cold world again._  
  
But it was still unnerving how real it felt. Even the logic of barrister mode couldn't rid that skin-crawling feeling of the evil surrounding the other driver, the evil of the army he faced...  
  
Anthony decided to wash it away. He wanted to be fresh for Geir anyway, so the shower had a twofold purpose: freshening up for Geir, and cleansing off the miasma of the dream, helping to calm his anxiety.  
  
But once he'd been sitting in the shower chair for a moment, the anxiety returned. Here more than anywhere else, in the shower chair, was a tangible reminder of how the accident had changed his life. It had been bothering him less than it did a few months ago, as he told himself he was still worthy of respect - after all, he didn't think less of other disabled people - and sitting in the shower wasn't so bad, it had become a way to relax. But now it started bothering him again. He once again felt powerless. Any concept he'd had of being "master of his own destiny" had gone completely to shit when Justin Roberts had crashed into his Audi. He felt that even with his best efforts to try to take his life back, it was all going to come undone again, somehow.  
  
He was tired of starting his life over again. He realized that was part of his anxiety with being newly moved into Sören and Nicholas's flat - it wasn't just a new living situation, it was a new _everything_. Helen had told him it was common for autistic people not to like change, to be fairly set in their habits and routines; even when Anthony had more of a sense of adventure in his early twenties there were still consistencies that he kept for his own sanity. He knew that it would be a matter of time before he'd find his rhythm in the new place, and with going back to work. But until then it was change, and he was slower to adapt than most. And it had been hard enough to start over again after Sören left, and after the accident. In a year or so, he'd be starting yet again, in his own place.  
  
He just wanted to settle somewhere for awhile. He wanted to nest. And it seemed that when he had a cozy, safe nest with Sören, it was disrupted and torn apart. When he was trying to move on - and not succeeding very well - then his life was torn apart again. He was afraid of letting himself get comfortable, letting himself breathe, wondering what next.  
  
That, too, he'd been told, was a sign of PTSD. Never really being able to truly relax and let one's guard down. Wondering when the other shoe would drop. "Hypervigilance", Helen had called it.  
  
Anthony was still feeling shaken as he got out of the shower and hobbled on his cane down to his room, a towel around his waist. When he began to get dressed, he looked at the time again, and once he was fully dressed, he called Geir, knowing Geir was getting home now or very soon.  
  
Geir picked up after two rings. "Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"You OK?"  
  
"Not really." Anthony gave a nervous chuckle. "Can you come over?"  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Yeah. Sorry?"  
  
"Are we still on for overnight, or -"  
  
"Yes, of course. I just... need some company sooner than we were planning on, if that's all right."  
  
"It is. I'll see you in a few."  
  
Geir let himself in with the key when he arrived, and went right upstairs to Anthony's room. Anthony was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, playing with his fidget spinner when Geir got in. Anthony looked up and managed a weak smile; he stopped spinning the spinner. Geir came right over, sat next to Anthony on the bed, and hugged him tight.  
  
"What's going on?" Geir kissed his cheek.  
  
"I took a nap and had a nightmare," Anthony said. "Well... I suppose not a nightmare, because it wasn't at night. A daymare. An afternoonmare -"  
  
Geir chuckled and gave him a little kiss. "You're so cute."  
  
Anthony's smile was less weak now, but he still felt distressed.  
  
Then Geir said, "Do you mind me asking what the dream was about? Maybe it might help for it to be... less powerful, more 'just a dream', if you talk about it..."  
  
"I dreamt about the accident. Again." Anthony shrugged. He decided not to tell Geir about Justin Roberts having burning orange eyes and a bloody smile, the burning eye banner, the army of... _things_. "I'm sure it was prompted by... well..." Anthony took a deep breath. "I told Garden Court Chambers and Lincoln's Inn I'm coming back on January fourth. And I feel like I'm trying to take back some control of my life and it's... for nothing."  
  
Geir was silent for a moment, listening, considering. Then he nodded and patted him. "You made it this far, didn't you? Pretty sure all that uphill climb wasn't for nothing."  
  
"Yes, but -"  
  
"No buts. The fact that you've even gotten to this place - where you're out of your parents' house, you're looking at returning to work in a month... that's a huge step. It's a huge deal." Geir snickered. "God, I sound like Trump. _Huuuuuuge._ "  
  
Anthony made a face; he could deal with seeing far less of Donald Trump in the news. He felt sorry for America.  
  
Then Geir got serious. "It's normal to have concerns. You should have seen me when I started playing flute again after the polyp surgery. I _still_ have anxiety attacks about getting another. But the only thing you can do is keep moving forward, a little bit here, a little bit there, and every few steps look back and realize you are, in fact, moving forward. That history is not following you and repeating itself."  
  
"I suppose. I just..." Anthony sighed. He admitted what he'd shared with Helen earlier, needing to unburden himself. "I worry that it's not going to be something outside my control this time, like a car accident. I mean - yes, I worry about that too. But more than that, I worry that _I'm_ going to do something to sabotage that moving forward. That I'll say or do something that will hurt Sören -"  
  
"Anthony, just being blunt here, Sören is in the process of forgiving you for what you did. If he can forgive _that_ , I'm sure comparatively minor missteps aren't going to be a catastrophe."  
  
"Maybe they will be. It's like re-aggravating an old injury." Anthony sighed and gestured to his femur. "I didn't break my femur in the car accident, but I did when I was twelve. My left leg has since then been slightly weaker than my right leg, and very slightly shorter than my right leg. My spinal injury isn't as bad as it could have been, but part of why my mobility is impaired is because my leg was already a little off. What I'm trying to say here is, I don't think it would take something as severe as the first offense to blow a second chance with Sören. That's what I'm afraid of." Anthony sighed again. He looked away from Geir and out the window - his mind's eye looking out into the past, replaying memories. "Sören has said more than once that the cheating incident wasn't so much the cause, as a symptom. He's not wrong. Our schedules conflicted, and we both had constant work stress. I'm working on my issues now through therapy but that takes time and in the meantime, going back to work, well... my job is a calling, but I'm also aware of how much of a toll it takes. And my stress tolerance is lower than it used to be. I'm worried that I'm going to say or do something that will hurt him, without meaning to, because I'm stressed out and not thinking right." Tears came to his eyes - he would rather cut off one of his own limbs than hurt Sören again. "I fucked up, and the entire time since the accident I've felt like a fuckup who can't get his shit together, who was living with his mummy, out of work, now staying with friends who pity him -"  
  
Geir put a finger to Anthony's lips and gave him a stern look. Geir got up, reached for the box of tissues on the desk, and handed the box to Anthony; Geir took out a tissue himself and began to wipe Anthony's eyes. "If someone else you knew was in the same position... got in a car accident, had to move back home with their parents for awhile, couldn't work, eventually moved in with friends... would you judge them?"  
  
" _No._ " Anthony was aghast.  
  
"Stop judging yourself," Geir said.  
  
Anthony exhaled, feeling ashamed of himself for being like that. He looked at his cane, then at Geir. "That's another thing I'm afraid of. That there are people who _will_ judge me, when I return to work." Anthony frowned, feeling the resentment seethe inside him at the way his ex-friends had negatively impacted his relationship with Sören, and it had been his own damn fault for not seeing it, not _wanting_ to see it because he feared being ostracized. "My path is eventually going to cross with one or more of my ex-friends. _They_ will judge me, and _they_ have other friends, friendly acquaintances -"  
  
"So? Fuck them." Geir scowled and folded his arms. "Beat the shit out of them in court, if you face them. Don't just go to war for your clients. Go to war for every disabled person who's judged and mocked by others. If your opponents or other people in the court would see your handicap as a weakness... show them they're wrong. Give them hell."  
  
Anthony's heart skipped a beat. His hair stood on end. He thought of the war sequence from his dream again... he thought of his own rage rising up, responding to the pure, vile hatred he could sense from the army across the field.  
  
He found himself grabbing Geir and kissing him hard. Geir took Anthony's face in his hands and kissed him back just as deeply... just as much fire and passion. Anthony's cock stirred in his jeans, and he moaned as Geir reached to undo them, going right for the prize, as they continued kissing.  
  
When they pulled apart, breathing harder, their eyes met. Geir touched Anthony's face.  
  
"It's not just Sören I'm worried about fucking things up with," Anthony said - as much lust as he felt right now there was still vulnerability, still fear and doubt. "I'm worried about fucking things up with you, too -"  
  
"Listen. I wouldn't be here if I thought you were going to fuck everything up. I wouldn't be willing to give you the time of day." Geir took Anthony's hands in his and kissed them. Their eyes met again, and held. "I trust you."  
  
"You..." Anthony swallowed hard. Those three words meant a lot to him. It was one thing for Geir to accept him as a friend, to desire him, to welcome him into the fold. But to be willing to leave the past behind and move forward, not looking back, not expecting another failure -  
  
"I trust you," Geir repeated. Then he looked around Anthony's room. "OK. Weird question time. Do you... have anything like a rope? A scarf?"  
  
Anthony's eyes widened when he realized what Geir was asking. "I have a few scarves. Are you..."  
  
Their eyes met again. "I lean more dominant, but yes, I'm a switch. I learned how to do Shibari and other forms of bondage from my ex, Hiroshi. He didn't just let me practice on his side lover, but I learned because I sometimes let him tie me up, too. It's been... a long time since then, but... I want to. I want to demonstrate trust." Geir smirked. "I hear you can make that sort of thing _very_ enjoyable."  
  
Anthony wondered what exactly Sören had told Geir about what their sex life had been like. His face burned and his cock throbbed, remembering how much Sören had loved being tied up and teased once in awhile. Remembering how Geir had told him that he sometimes took care of Sören that way.  
  
"I have a scarf hanging in the wardrobe," Anthony said. He smiled as he remembered Sören giving it to him, and why. "It was a Christmas present from long ago, so the Yule Cat wouldn't eat me."  
  
"So Sören could eat you instead."  
  
Anthony laughed at that; he already felt a little better.  
  
Geir opened Anthony's wardrobe, found the scarf quickly, and tossed it at him. Then he began to get undressed, with Anthony's eyes riveted, admiring the definition in Geir's body, the grace, the power.  
  
When Geir was completely naked, he gave Anthony a "go ahead" gesture. Even though they'd been intimate several times now, Anthony was still a bit shy and hesitant about undressing in front of him. But the hunger in Geir's eyes was unmistakable, and by the time Anthony was fully nude, he was also fully erect.  
  
Geir laid back, and Anthony carefully climbed onto the bed, wielding the scarf. "So... it's been awhile?" Anthony inquired. He wasn't just going to tie Geir up right away, he needed to know some boundaries first.  
  
Geir nodded.  
  
"Do you have any hard limits that I should be aware of before I tie you up?" Anthony asked.  
  
"No scat, no heavy pain, no breathplay, and I don't want to be gagged."  
  
Anthony nodded. "I'm not into any of that, so no worries. You have a safeword?"  
  
"No, but we can decide one." Geir thought for a moment and then he chuckled. "Since Christmas is coming, the word 'reindeer' is the first thing that popped into my head."  
  
Anthony also laughed. "Reindeer it is." It was so ridiculous. _Sören would appreciate that._ He gave a small sigh, missing Sören terribly, wishing Sören could get in on the fun. He leaned in and kissed the tip of Geir's nose - an homage to Rudolph - and then he grabbed Geir's arms and drew them up; Geir gripped the headboard. Anthony spent a few minutes securely tying one wrist to the headboard with one end of the scarf, and the other wrist with the other end, then he had Geir test the bonds to make sure they weren't too loose or too tight.  
  
"Thank you for trusting me," Anthony husked, and claimed Geir's mouth.  
  
The sensual swirling, rubbing of their tongues made Anthony's cock throb, but now was not the time for instant gratification. Geir was trusting him to do whatever he wanted, within limits... and Anthony wanted to make it very, very good for him, rewarding that trust... proving that trust. As they kissed, Anthony's cock grinded up on Geir's thigh, letting Geir feel how aroused he was, how much he wanted. Geir's own cock was hard against his belly, and Anthony's hand slid down to palm Geir's hard cock, caressing, before his hand wrapped around it and stroked slowly, stroking slow and teasing with kiss after kiss.  
  
Anthony spent awhile just kissing him, enjoying their lips and tongues together, but at last when he pulled back and they caught their breath, the heat in Geir's blue eyes made Anthony want more... he wanted to turn the look of expectant lust into desperate, fevered abandon. He started to kiss and lick up and down Geir's neck, savoring each moan, each catch of breath. One hand continued to gently play with Geir's cock, as Anthony's other hand caressed down Geir's chest to his stomach and his fingers walked back up, then his fingers traced lazy circles back down from the chest to the stomach to his thigh.  
  
It was time to tease. Anthony kissed, licked, and stroked Geir all over, nipples, chest, stomach, thighs, calves. Geir's moans got louder, and by the time Anthony reached Geir's stomach to kiss and nibble, Geir was panting, gasping, starting to lose it. Anthony himself was lost, his focus on Geir's body and pleasuring every inch of him. As hard as Anthony's cock was - harder with every noise Geir made, the look of agonized ecstasy on his face, the beauty of him - Anthony made himself wait. He couldn't help stroking himself a little, but this was about Geir. Anthony felt like he was being given a gift, and he was cherishing it.  
  
At last Anthony leaned over Geir's cock. He rubbed his nose in Geir's dark bush, breathing in the scent of him, remembering how he loved to do the same to Sören. He took a playful lick at the head of Geir's cock, and Geir cried out. "Oh god, please..." Geir let out a little whine.  
  
Anthony smiled; he loved seeing a six-foot-five, athletically-built man who could probably crush him with his thighs, undone like this. And it was just beginning.  
  
Anthony began to lick Geir's cock slowly - the head in slow circles, and up and down the shaft. Long strokes, and lighter ones. Then he licked Geir's cock like it was a delicious ice cream cone, harder, faster. Geir groaned and bucked against him. "Fuck..."  
  
Anthony licked and licked, slow then fast, the head then the shaft and back. When Geir made another high-pitched whimper, followed by a hungry growl, Anthony laughed softly and put the head of Geir's cock in his mouth. He sucked the head, rubbing his tongue, as his hand rubbed up and down the shaft. Soon Geir was panting, gasping, writhing. "Oh, fuck. Anthony. Please. _Please._ Oh god, please, I need to come..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm." Anthony took the head of Geir's cock out of his mouth and grinned. "I'm sure you do." He lapped at the slit, tasting Geir's precum, before he resumed sucking at the head again.  
  
He sucked and rubbed harder, faster, and Geir began working his hips, trying to thrust into Anthony's mouth and hand. Anthony slowed down to tease him some more, and then he was just licking the cock again, as Geir cried out and thrashed. "Fuck! Dammit Anthony, I need to fucking come..."  
  
"Good for you." Anthony laughed softly as Geir gave an urgent whine. Geir wasn't safewording yet, and Geir also grinned before he whined again.  
  
Anthony sucked on the head some more, hand rubbing up and down the shaft, and then he was licking the cock again. But this time he went farther down and began to lick Geir's balls. Geir gave another cry, and again when Anthony sucked at the balls, knowing from years of experience how much men loved it, how good it felt. When Anthony's tongue played in that sensitive place between Geir's balls and ass, Geir began to plead, "Oh god. Please. Fuck me. I need to come so _fucking_ bad..."  
  
"You mean like this?" Anthony plunged his tongue into Geir's passage.  
  
Geir went mad, making inhuman noises. Anthony quickly glanced at the clock, hoping Nicholas wasn't going to walk in to hear that, but they still had more time. His focus returned to Geir, licking inside him slowly then faster, his own cock stiffening even more at the tightness of Geir's channel, the way Geir yielded to him, panting, until Geir was rocking his hips, fucking himself on Anthony's tongue rubbing away inside him, fucking him.  
  
"Fuck. Oh god. _Fuck!_ " Geir bit his lower lip and whimpered.  
  
Anthony couldn't take it anymore. He took a few last licks at Geir's cock - so slick with precum now. His own cock was ready to explode. He fumbled with the lube, his hands trembling with desire and pent up need. As he stroked himself, working the lube in, Geir whimpered again and gave him a needy look. "Please. God. Please, fuck me..."  
  
Anthony untied Geir's wrists. Before he could mount Geir, the younger man grabbed him, shoved him back against the pillows, and then Geir climbed on top of Anthony, straddled his hips, and sank down. They both cried out when Anthony was all the way inside.  
  
Geir rode Anthony with wild abandon, wilder as Anthony's hands reached up and slid over him. Geir's hands reached down to play over Anthony's body as well, making Anthony tingle and shiver, the need rising in him stronger and stronger. Geir bucked fiercely, panting, moaning so loudly Anthony wondered if anyone else in the apartment building could hear. The headboard rocked against the wall, but the slap of their flesh was almost as loud, their moans and sighs and panting louder. The tight, silken heat of Geir's ass and the way his gorgeous sculpted body moved as he rode brought Anthony right to that edge, but he made himself hold back, gritting his teeth. And when he felt himself get closer, rushing to that point of no return, he took Geir's cock in his hand and started stroking him furiously. Geir cried out.  
  
"So close..." Geir shuddered.  
  
"That's it." Anthony's breath hitched. He needed Geir to come first, but he felt like he was going to lose control any second now.  
  
The seconds stretched out, feeling like an eternity. Geir's shivering breaths and the frenzied look in his eyes got more and more intense, adding to the sensation of Geir's passage gripping and stroking him. Anthony was ready to explode, and he ground out, "Now."  
  
Geir threw his head back and cried out as he climaxed. Watching Geir's cock shoot and feeling Geir quiver with each contraction sent Anthony over the edge, coming hard, moaning as he spent inside Geir. Geir's cock spurted over and over again, until Geir collapsed on top of Anthony, gasping for breath. They kissed deeply, and Anthony's arms wrapped around him, jubilant... grateful.  
  
"Thank you," Anthony said between kisses. "Thank you... thank you." It wasn't just an amazing orgasm, but that feeling of being trusted... the magic of Geir's surrender... it touched him.  
  
They rolled onto their side and now Geir was holding him too. He put Anthony's head on his shoulder and rubbed Anthony's back. "See?" Geir whispered. "I trusted you, and you came through." Geir chuckled then. "And through and through."  
  
Anthony laughed too.  
  
Tangled up with Geir, with the rain falling outside, was cozy... the warmth of having been trusted, having done _right_ with that trust even cozier. Despite his earlier nap, Anthony dozed off.  
  
  
_  
  
  
He is back in the body not his own. The skies are dark, the land is blighted.  
  
The fire is warm, and the blue eyes warmer. Anthony has been without his family for so long, but here is Geir. They recognize kin right away, and though it is war and all seems so bleak, they stick close together, taking comfort in that.  
  
As their soldiers sleep, they take comfort in each other in other ways, kissing feverishly, hands roaming, taking turns inside each other. Blood sings to blood, fire calls to fire. His brothers are no more, but yet they live on in this his kinsman. His star in the darkness.


	26. Unknown Pleasures

"Mmmmf."  
  
It was so rare to be unheard of that Sören was up before Karen on a Saturday morning when he didn't have to work, but he had let himself in to wake up Karen a little before he knew her alarm was set to go off, a more pleasant wake-up call. Today was December twelfth, their one-year anniversary - technically their first date had been on December seventh a year ago, but December twelfth, 2014 had been when they'd consummated their relationship. After discussion with Nicholas, Sören had put in to take the weekend off, and had made plans.  
  
Last December, Sören and Karen had gone to see a Joy Division cover band called Dead Souls, playing in Shoreditch. Sören had looked them up to see if they were still around and found out they were playing a gig in Manchester in honor of Ian Curtis's widow, Deborah, whose birthday was the thirteenth. Sören had booked a hotel room in Manchester, and he and Karen were set to take the nearly four-hour train ride one-way so they could go see a cover band of the band that had gotten them to talk in a crowded pub in Reykjavik six years ago.  
  
Besides going to the show in the evening, Karen had expressed interest in doing some sightseeing, which was why they were leaving early. Why Sören, who was adamantly not a morning person, was sitting on Karen's bed now, raining kisses over her face.  
  
Karen grinned when she saw him. "Well. I was expecting to have to wake _you_ up, not the other way around."  
  
Sören grinned back. "Surprise." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Happy anniversary, _elskan._ "  
  
"Happy anniversary, love." Karen sat up and pulled him into a kiss. Sören gave a little groan as their tongues played together - he didn't want to get worked up and end up in bed all morning, which would mean not getting much sightseeing done before the show.  
  
Sören wasn't just here as a courtesy to give Karen a less jarring wakeup than her alarm, though. "I have something for you," he said.  
  
Karen gave him a pointed look.  
  
Sören knew what she meant by that and facepalmed, cheeks burning, shaking his head and chuckling. "Not _that._ You're almost as bad as I am."  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
They laughed together and Karen pulled him into another kiss. "Mmm, later," Sören said when they pulled apart - taking time for sex was even more tempting now, and it would throw their entire plans off course. "Here, I'll wait for you down in the living room, OK?"  
  
Sören made coffee in the kitchen while he heard Karen using the shower. It still felt surreal to be making coffee in Karen and Geir's kitchen like he owned the place, but that was what they all did now - they made coffee and tea at each other's houses, sometimes helped themselves to available fruit or snacks or candy. In this case, the coffee wasn't just for him, he knew Karen would appreciate the caffeine when she got downstairs.  
  
It took Karen a little while to get ready after her shower, and Sören sat on the couch with a cup of coffee, looking at the anniversary gift as he listened to the sound of the hair dryer and Karen's footfall. Craig and Geir were out for an early-morning run - they had helped him carry the thing inside when they saw him coming with it, even though Sören was capable of carrying it on his own. Even though Karen had never given his art anything but effusive praise, and she'd seen the beginning sketch last month, Sören still felt nervous about showing her the finished product, especially when it was something of such a deeply personal nature.  
  
At last Karen came downstairs, wearing her hair in a loose and messy bun, a royal blue cashmere cardigan over a black lace camisole with black trousers, and the necklace Sören had given her last Christmas - twelve seashells, with chunky nuggets of Dominican larimar and rainbow moonstone between the seashells and going aound the silver chain. Sören's face lit up when he saw the necklace.  
  
Sören was a bit more dressed down, wearing the black Joy Division T-shirt he'd been wearing when they met, over a long-sleeved dark navy blue T-shirt, with a blue plaid flannel shirt worn open, and faded, worn jeans, his usual Doc Martens. His hair was down - he'd been growing his hair and it was a little past his shoulders now. Karen came over and mussed his curls, and he took her hand and kissed it before grabbing her and pulling her down onto his lap, making her giggle.  
  
He had a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her on the coffee table, and reached around her to grab the cup and put it in her hands. Karen tilted her head to kiss him on the cheek before she took her first sip. "Mmm, that's good."  
  
Sören's mind went right into the gutter, remembering her moaning exactly that in other contexts. Karen seemed to know it, too, tilting her head again to give him a naughty look before they both exploded with laughter. But then Karen's laughter stopped as she saw the framed painting leaning against a bookcase; Sören's heart skipped a beat as he heard her breath hitch.  
  
 _Here goes nothing._ Sören braced himself.  
  
Karen put down the coffee, got off Sören's lap, and walked right over to the painting, coming close to get a better look, then walking slowly from one side to the other to take it in at different angles. Sören felt ready to jump out of his skin as he waited for Karen's reaction. And then finally Karen said, "Sören, I love it." Her eyes were too bright with unshed tears. She quickly walked to the coffee table to get a tissue. "Shit, I'm going to ruin my eye makeup..."  
  
"I mean, runny mascara is appropriate for what we're going to see."  
  
Karen laughed through her tears, wadded up the tissue and threw it at him. Then she looked back at the painting. Sören had fleshed out more detail in the sketch of Karen's paternal grandparents Anna and Erik on a misty moor full of wildflowers in Sheffield, a beagle trotting happily nearby - looking like something out of an old-fashioned gothic romance novel except for the goofy beagle - and then he brought it to life in color with the painting tools on his tablet, then made a full-sized high-quality print and bought a nice dark oak frame for it, elegant simplicity with scalloped edges. Karen was open-mouthed, eyes wide. "God, Sören. I feel almost like I'm _there._ Almost like they're _here._ Like that painting is some kind of... magic portal for them to watch me, or me to feel them." Karen bit her lip. "That sounds crazy..."  
  
"No, Karen, it doesn't sound crazy. That... that was kind of what I was going for." Sören's arms broke out into gooseflesh despite the layers, his hair standing on end. He remembered the hotel room in Sheffield, feeling like something was there in the room with him, watching him, the idea for the beagle that came out of nowhere that he thought was just a random cute idea, having no clue that Erik had once had a beagle. Sören liked his work to feel magical, a touch of the Other, but this went above and beyond his usual.  
  
"It is one of _the_ most amazing gifts anyone has ever given me, Sören, you're wonderful." Karen went over to him and gave him a fierce, tight hug.  
  
Sören threw his arms around her and hugged her back, hard, feeling a flood of relief. "You don't hate it?"  
  
"Sören, how could I hate that? Even if it wasn't amazing art, the thought would still count, but the fact that you're so talented... it's like looking at a photograph, almost. Except... more than a photograph can capture. I don't know how to explain it."  
  
Sören smiled. It didn't need more of an explanation than that. "Well, I'm glad." Sören sighed, once again feeling the relief flow through him. His toes curled in his boots. "I feel a little weird calling that an anniversary present but it was finally done, so I figured I might as well frame it -"  
  
Karen took Sören's hand. "I feel utterly spoilt, between this and our weekend away." Karen looked at the time and made a face. "Speaking of, we had better get going." Karen's frown deepened. "I'm sure my eye makeup is a wreck, but -"  
  
"No, not really." Sören didn't think he was the best judge of that thing anyway, but he didn't think it looked different than before.  
  
"OK, I guess the waterproof eye makeup is as advertised, then." Karen laughed. She pulled Sören to his feet. "As much as I'd like to hang that, we have a train to catch."  
  
"We can hang it tomorrow after we get back, or Monday," Sören said, nodding. "Or maybe Geir will hang it, if you don't mind him picking a spot."  
  
"He'd probably prefer I decide where it goes," Karen said. "Though another set of eyes to see if it works in that location is welcome."  
  
On their way out Karen hugged Sören again. "I have no words. That painting is _beautiful._ And so are you." She put a hand on his heart.  
  
"So are _you._ " Sören booped her nose. "I... I needed to do something, you know?"  
  
"I know." Karen swallowed hard. "I appreciate it. A lot."  
  
On the train ride to Manchester, Karen read a book - the hardbound book of Jules LaForgue's poetry that Anthony had gotten her for her birthday. Sören was exhausted from having worked late last night, and tried to zone out, but he had a hard time doing it on the moving train. He kept window-watching... and glancing at Karen.  
  
Though Sören didn't travel often with his schedule, it was force of habit for him to bring his tablet if inspiration struck. He found himself pulling out his tablet, and sketching Karen. He'd sketched her before, but that had just been for fun – this was more serious, Karen in a walled garden on a cliff overlooking the sea, wearing a necklace of shells, waves of hair blowing in the breeze, accompanied by two swans. The swans were a whimsical touch inspired by her last name, but it also seemed to fit, like it was a spirit animal of sorts. In the ocean there were swan boats.  
  
After awhile Karen paused her book and glanced at him. "What are you drawing?"  
  
Sören normally didn't mind Karen seeing works in progress - not that he did a lot of art in his spare time, because he didn't have a lot of spare time - but now he pulled the tablet against himself, and unlike the sketch of Karen's grandparents, he felt resolve now. "It's a surprise." He raised an eyebrow. "It's your Christmas present."  
  
"OK, fiiiiiiiiiiine, don't show me." Karen gave him an amused look and returned to her reading.  
  
Sören exhaled. Telling her it was her Christmas present had just slipped out, a moment of impulsivity, saying without thinking. It was two weeks to Christmas and Sören had just put pressure on himself to finish in that timeframe. He didn't like to rush these things, though he had finished a painting in less time before. He also worried again that maybe she wouldn't like it, though she'd seemed thrilled with the painting of her grandparents, and other art of his that he'd seen.  
  
Sören knew that he needed to take her compliments at face value - to believe her yes meant yes, just like he knew her no meant no; he knew it would probably be insulting to her to hear those internal doubts, even though he couldn't help it, remembering the way his aunt and uncle insulted his art growing up as vividly as he could see Karen the swan-maiden in his mind's eye. Of course those doubts would keep coming back, but he was going to make himself keep pushing through them, keep working on the piece. When he was sure Karen's attention was rapt in the book, he resumed drawing.  
  
Regardless of what she did or didn't think, it felt damn _good_ to be inspired again, to feel that spark of creativity after so long. He basked in its glow, smiling as the stylus moved across the tablet screen.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When Sören and Karen got back to their hotel after the concert, snow was lightly falling. It was the perfect end to what had been a really nice day. Their sightseeing trip had included a visit to Ian Curtis's old home of 77 Barton Street in Macclesfield, and seeing where his remains were interred in Macclesfield Cemetery; Sören and Karen had bought flowers to put at Ian Curtis's gravestone and gotten some pictures. At the Dead Souls concert, Deborah Curtis had autographed a Joy Division CD Sören had since he was a teenager. The falling snow in the golden glow of the streetlamps was peaceful, and outside of the hotel, Sören and Karen shared a kiss.  
  
Sören had sprung for a nice hotel room with a balcony and a hot tub. Relaxing together in the bubbly heat was nice after a brisk walk in the cold, so Sören started the hot tub as soon as they got in. Once they were out of their outerwear and undressed, the hot tub was ready. Sören produced a small bottle of Moët & Chandon Impérial Brut from the mini-bar in their room and poured them each a glass, and they got in the tub together, clinking their glasses of champagne once they were settled.  
  
"Thank you for all of this," Karen said, leaning against him. She sipped her champagne.  
  
"You're welcome." Sören kissed her cheek. "Thank you for doing all of this with me. Nick isn't exactly a Joy Division fan."  
  
Karen snorted. "I imagine not."  
  
"I've also never been to Manchester." Sören took a sip of his champagne. "I haven't seen a whole lot of England even though I've lived here for five years."  
  
"You poor thing, working all the time." Karen gave him a kiss and tousled his curls. "It means a lot that you were willing to take the entire weekend off for me, even though they'll make you work more next week to make up for it."  
  
Sören nodded. "On the bright side, Nick says he can ready my Christmas gift without me catching him." He chuckled.  
  
"He's such a dear." Then Karen's eyes widened and she looked at Sören with something like amazement. "Has it really been five years that you've been here?"  
  
Sören nodded solemnly. "Actually... next week the hospital is letting me take a longer than usual lunch break, on Wednesday, so I can go out and take my citizenship oath. Nick and Anthony are coming with me."  
  
Karen set her champagne glass down on the rim of the tub and threw her arms around Sören. "Congratulations!"  
  
Sören smiled and patted her. It felt strange to finally become a citizen of the United Kingdom - he would be a dual citizen, retaining Icelandic citizenship - but it also felt right. While he was warming to the possibility of visiting Iceland someday, which had been out of the question years ago, he knew he probably wasn't going to return there to live. This was his home now, for better or worse.  
  
Nicholas was his home now. Yes, Sören had a career at the National, and he was staying there even now that he didn't need the NHS to sponsor a visa - he believed strongly in public medicine, having heard horror stories of medical poverty in the States. He was on his way to becoming a consultant at the National, which his supervisor Ed had said would probably happen in another two years. Sören had a sense of purpose. But he needed more than just work all the time. He and Nicholas were nesting. Above and beyond belonging to his career, he belonged to his mate.  
  
And as loath as he was to admit it, it felt right that Anthony was living with them. They weren't back together yet, but Sören nonetheless felt like Anthony was home, too. It seemed apt that both Nicholas and Anthony were coming along to witness his citizenship oath.  
  
When they pulled apart, Sören sighed, thinking of Nicholas and Anthony - missing them both. He was happy to be here with Karen, he'd enjoyed the day, but he couldn't help missing them. He felt a twinge, like he was being disloyal to Karen somehow, and he took another ship of champagne, trying to bring himself back to the present, to the enjoyment of here and now.  
  
But then Karen sighed too as she took her own glass of champagne. Her brow was slightly furrowed. Sören wondered if she could somehow sense how being apart from Nicholas and Anthony was gnawing at him, and then told himself _that's daft, psychic bullshit isn't real_ even though he'd had a number of those moments himself. He knew it was more likely she had something else on her mind, and he did care about her, too. "What is it?" Sören asked, concerned.  
  
"Oh, it's." Karen frowned. "I don't want to rain on your parade."  
  
Now Sören frowned too. "If something's upsetting you, I don't want you to hold back, _elskan_. I'm here for you, whatever it is. It might help you relax to get it off your chest." Then Sören looked at her breasts and smiled.  
  
Karen caught that and splashed him, cackling, and Sören laughed too. Karen gave him a peck and then she leaned on him again, swirling her champagne in her glass before she took another sip. "It's just... I feel somewhat envious."  
  
"Of me becoming a British citizen?" Sören was confused. "I thought you were one too?"  
  
"It's not that, silly," Karen said, chuckling. "It's how you seem to have found your place here. I feel really... lost."  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " Sören pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, his concerned feeling intensifying. When they pulled apart he looked into her eyes. "What do you mean by lost?" He wondered if she was struggling with depression again, something he knew she had a history with. It was understandable, grieving for her grandmother, but still worrisome.  
  
"OK." Karen took a deep breath. "As much as I appreciate you working on a painting for me for Christmas... I'm not going to be here for the holidays. I'm going up to Sheffield to see my parents." Their eyes met again. "My father is, well... he's still upset about losing his mother. Even though she was old and it was inevitable someday, it was still so _sudden_ and... he's not in a good way. So I'm spending Christmas with him and Mum."  
  
"That's OK!" Sören said. "I'm not offended at all. It's good that you're going to be there for your dad, I hope he'll be OK."  
  
"He will be," Karen said, nodding. "He's grieving, but he has Mum and his sister around. Having me there for the holidays will probably help." Then Karen bit her lower lip.  
  
"We can do early Christmas for you to get your gifts from us," Sören said. "Or later, if you prefer. It's not a big deal." But he knew from the look on her face that going to Sheffield for the holidays, and maybe worrying about disappointing everyone in London, wasn't it. "There's more, isn't there?"  
  
Karen looked down. "In the same conversation where I was asked to come home for Christmas, my father asked me if I'd be willing to just... come home. For awhile."  
  
"How long is awhile?"  
  
"A few months or so, though being realistic, he'd want me to come back to Sheffield permanently."  
  
Sören felt like his stomach had turned to ice. He knew that she very likely wasn't going to accept that offer, but...  
  
Karen looked up at him and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "I told him I can't do that right now, or... well, my exact words were 'I need time to think', because I didn't have the heart to give a hard no. But I have a life here, and it's not easy to walk away from. Especially you." Karen touched Sören's face.  
  
Sören took Karen's hand and kissed it, but he didn't feel relief just yet. He knew this was leading up to something else. "But you said you feel lost. Is it guilt because you don't want to just leave to go back to Sheffield, or -"  
  
Karen bit her lip again. She finished her champagne and set the glass on the rim of the tub again. "I had a really, really bad week at work, Sören."  
  
"Oh." Sören wasn't surprised by that, somehow; the holidays were coming and he knew from his own past experience with retail how people could get.  
  
"I thought about quitting more than once, but I need to pay the bills. But it was that bad. Especially yesterday. A woman expected me to do gift wrapping and I told her we don't do that and she threw a fit and demanded to see my manager. My manager told her the same thing I did, but even so, it was _unpleasant._ Then we got a rush and I had a long line and I had people complaining I wasn't going fast enough, even though I was going as fast as I can."  
  
"People lining up to buy all those pineapples and ballet slipper key chains."  
  
Karen laughed and nodded. "It's going to get worse as Christmas gets closer. I _cried_ when I came home yesterday. Usually I don't completely hate my job, we get the odd arsehole now and again, but it's not normally non-stop like this."  
  
"It's bullshit," Sören said, feeling a pang of sympathy, putting his arms around her again. He began to pet her hair. "You'd think with the holidays coming people would maybe remember that 'peace on Earth and good will' thing and be nicer, but no. The holidays bring out the shittiness in shoppers and I am so, so sorry that you're dealing with that."  
  
Karen nodded again. "So this weekend is _such_ a welcome getaway. But... I have to go back on Monday. And I don't want to. I know this isn't going to be forever, but that... well..." Karen's brow furrowed. "As a librarian, I still have to work with the public. It's not going to be quite the same as retail, but I've spent enough time in libraries to know librarians get used as punching bags sometimes, too."  
  
"Jesus." Sören knew now that was why Karen said she felt lost. "So you're thinking you may not want to be an librarian after all?"  
  
Karen closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened her eyes they were too bright. "I can't... just quit school. The whole 'sunk cost' thing and I don't know what else I'd do with myself. I'm trying to tell myself no job is perfect and no matter where I go and what I do there's going to be shitty people sometimes, and bad days, and I just have to deal. Better I see my schooling through and do this."  
  
"But your heart's not fully in it."  
  
"The problem is I don't know what my heart wants anymore." Then Karen realized how that sounded and she touched Sören's face again. "You know what I mean."  
  
"I do." Sören gave a tight smile. But he did, in fact, have a feeling that even if she hadn't consciously meant it like that, on a subconscious level she did mean it like that.  
  
Sören loved Karen, and he was sure Karen loved him, but he also knew from his prior relationship history that love wasn't enough. Even though Karen claimed to like her independence, Sören still was only able to give her one night once every one to two weeks with his work schedule and his other partners, and he knew that once he and Anthony were officially back together he and Karen would probably be lucky to get a date night once or twice a month. Karen probably saw the writing on the wall, and though Sören didn't want to lose her - once or twice a month was better than nothing - he also felt on some level like it was unfair to her, independent or not.  
  
He was leaving the ball in her court; he wasn't going to initiate a breakup with her. If she was OK with their arrangement even when they had less time together, he was still OK with seeing her. He would take what he could get, and if she was also willing to take what she could get, he would let it be. But he also didn't want her to feel like she had to settle for that. He loved her enough that he was willing to let her go if she needed to find a partner who was more available, if that was what she needed to do to be happy.  
  
And it wasn't just about his limited time to give. If Karen needed to change careers - and if she needed to leave London to go to school and/or work in another city - he didn't want her to feel obligated to stay in central London for him. He didn't want to hold her back. That, too, was out of love. He wanted what was best for her, even if it meant losing her.  
  
Sören voiced the latter concern now. " _Elskan_ , if you decide you need to quit school and go for something else... I support you. I'll support your decision if you want to stay on your current trajectory, too, but if this isn't working out... I won't judge you for it. And if that means you need to leave central London, if there's a school somewhere else, or a better job somewhere else... well... I love you, but I don't want to stand in your way, either."  
  
"Oh, Sören." Karen's eyes misted again. She gave him a tight hug. "Sören, I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Sören wanted to believe that. But he also knew what it was like to feel like everything in life was a bad fit and need to just _go_ \- he'd been in a similar position five years ago. And he couldn't hold it against her if she ended up also needing to leave the nest their chosen family had built and fly away. He would miss her - he would always love her whether it worked out or not, just like he'd still loved Anthony well after the breakup. It would hurt if she left. He thought it would hurt more if she didn't leave but was making herself suffer out of a sense of loyalty.  
  
"I mean it," Sören said. "I love you enough that I want you to be happy, I want what's best for you, I'm not going to be selfish and insist that you -"  
  
Karen silenced him with a kiss. Then she took his face in her hands and gave him a stern look. "Sören. I love you, you unselfish... mother hen."  
  
"Mother hen, eh?" Now Sören couldn't help himself. "I'm one bad motherclucker."  
  
Karen giggled and splashed him. She gave him another kiss which deepened, heated, and Sören groaned at the feel of her breasts against his chest, her nipples against his. His cock began to harden despite the serious mood of the last several moments.  
  
"Here," Karen said, turning off the tub. "I think that tongue of yours needs to do something besides give advice, and make awful puns." She rose up, and pulled Sören up with her. They toweled each other off and Sören followed Karen to the bed.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Even though Karen had told Sören she wasn't going anywhere - and her passion had certainly been convincing - Sören found himself worrying again on the train ride back to London. He managed to distract himself with resuming work on the portrait of Karen, which had progressed enough that he considered the sketching part done by the time the train pulled into the station, but once he was back at his flat for the usual Sunday family dinner, even his relief at seeing Nicholas and Anthony again couldn't shake the feeling that it was the beginning of the end for him and Karen. That her presence in his life was as ephemeral as the autumn of his vision of her.  
  
Sören tried to mask his tension during dinner, not wanting to get anyone else down, but throughout dinner Nicholas kept giving him concerned looks - since they'd begun living together in March, Nicholas had become quite familiar with when Sören was bothered by something. And after dinner and the usual after-dinner show was over, everyone had gone home, and Anthony had retreated to his room for the evening, and Sören and Nicholas were cuddling on the couch drinking hot chocolate, Nicholas finally put his cup of hot cocoa down on a coaster, took Sören's chin in his hand, and tilted Sören's face to look at him, meeting his eyes.  
  
"What is it, darling?" Nicholas asked, his voice husky with tenderness. "I know something's wrong." He scowled. "Did you and Karen have a row?"  
  
"No," Sören said, looking down.  
  
"But it _is_ about Karen, isn't it?"  
  
Sören nodded and sighed. He wasn't going to lie.  
  
Nicholas waited. Tobias came over and hopped on the couch, laying across both of them, purring. After a moment of stroking the cat together, Sören found his words. "Karen's going to Sheffield to see her parents for the holidays."  
  
"Oh!"  
  
"I take it she didn't tell you."  
  
"No... I suppose she would have got to it in time, or she would assume you'd tell me." Nicholas nodded - Sören detected a slight touch of disappointment on his face, but Nicholas didn't seem extremely upset. "As you know, her grandmother died. It makes sense she'd want to be there for her father, so he could have more family close by."  
  
"It does," Sören said.  
  
"She will be missed, but I'm sure we can have a small get-together before or after the holiday that involves her."  
  
"I said as much."  
  
Nicholas nodded again and then their eyes met once more. "That's not all," Nicholas said.  
  
"No, it's not." Sören sipped his hot cocoa and put it down. Tobias climbed into his arms and Sören held the cat, soothed by the purr. "Karen is having a hard time right now. It's not just being sad over her grandmother, though I'm sure that's some of it. Her father asked her to move back to Sheffield for awhile and she told him 'she'll think about it' because she doesn't want to give him a hard no, she told me it's a no, but the holiday rush at her job is stressing her out and since being a librarian involves working with the public, she's... rethinking her life, I guess."  
  
"I see."  
  
There was a long pause. They finished their hot cocoa, looking at each other, saying nothing; Sören knew Nicholas was studying the information given him, reading between the lines, drawing conclusions. At last Nicholas said it. "So while she's said no about the prospect of moving back to Sheffield, you still think that eventually she _will_ leave central London."  
  
"Jæja, and... it's hard enough to maintain a relationship right now while she's in central London. Long-distance relationships aren't impossible but as it is I don't talk to my own blood family that often because I don't have a lot of time. I'd make time to chat with her and stuff, but..." Sören sighed.  
  
Nicholas skritched Tobias's head and face, then gently picked up the cat and put the cat down on the couch beside him, so he could pull Sören close. "I think," Nicholas said, "that the stress of losing her grandmother is compounding the stress of her job, and perhaps when the holidays are over, she won't have as many doubts about what she's doing with her life."  
  
"I hope so." Sören wasn't so sure, but he didn't want to argue with Nicholas about it. He picked his head up and looked at Nicholas. "I did tell her whatever she decides, I support her. I'd be sad to see her go but... I want her to be happy, even if that means finding it elsewhere."  
  
"You're a good man."  
  
Sören gave a sad smile. Then he confessed a deeper fear. "I worry that... I'm not just being unfair to her, but all my other partners. I mean, you all knew what you were getting into when things started, but it's one thing to be told and another thing to live it. I worry that it won't just be her who leaves." Sören touched Nicholas's face. "I worry you're going to start having issues once Anthony -"  
  
Nicholas kissed him, gently at first, then more passionately. When they pulled apart, breathing harder, Nicholas traced Sören's lips with his thumb. "Sören, I daresay you're stuck with me."  
  
"Good. But I still -"  
  
"No buts." Nicholas poked the tip of Sören's nose. "It may be that when the time comes with you and Anthony resuming a relationship, we need to re-negotiate a schedule with your other partners. And it may be that they may not like the proposed changes. But we won't know until we get there. And I know that in my case, we have built a life together, here. I know you're not just going to abandon that... nor will I."  
  
Sören spoke the deepest truth of all. "I love Karen, but I _love_ you. I'll be sad if she goes - I'll understand, but I'll miss her just the same. But you..." Sören's eyes burned with the beginning of tears. "I... I can't lose you. I need -"  
  
Nicholas crushed Sören's mouth to his, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away. Sören moaned into the kiss, and moaned again as Nicholas's hands slid over him, the older man's touch comforting and arousing all at once. Nicholas began to stroke Sören's curls and then he leaned in closer and husked, "I need you too, sweetheart," before claiming Sören's mouth again.  
  
They went upstairs. When they reached the top of the stairs, Nicholas put an arm around Sören's waist, his touch making Sören tingle. Once they got in their bedroom, Nicholas gently closed the door and then took Sören into his arms, kissing him hungrily. They started undressing each other, feverishly kissing, caressing the exposed flesh, and when they were both naked they stood for a moment holding each other, kissing deeply, hard cock rubbing hard cock. When Sören's arms unwound from his lover, his hands roamed up and down Nicholas's chest, savoring the feel of the silver fur, Nicholas groaned as he kissed Sören's neck. Sören moaned, his cock jolting against Nicholas's.  
  
Nicholas chuckled and then he said to Sören, "Sit down."  
  
Sören sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him expectantly. He thought Nicholas was going to come over so he could suck Nicholas's cock, but instead Nicholas walked over to the wardrobe. "I have something for you," Nicholas said.  
  
"I bet."  
  
Nicholas snorted and shook his head, laughing harder. He opened the wardrobe and Sören heard the sound of a bag.  
  
"I was going to wait and make this part of your Christmas present," Nicholas said, coming back with a small shopping bag, "but I think the time is right to give this to you now."  
  
Sören was genuinely curious. He opened the bag and inside were two silk scarves, both black. He looked back up at Nicholas, who was giving him such a hungry look that it went straight to Sören's cock. _Oh, fuck._ Sören's heart beat faster, his nipples hardening, _aching_ for what he suspected this meant; Sören had mentioned to Nicholas before that Anthony occasionally tied him up and dominated him and Nicholas had remarked that sounded "intriguing" and "fun".  
  
"You...?" Sören couldn't finish the sentence. He could barely make words. His mind raced with mental images of being tied, Nicholas kissing and licking him all over. Nicholas fucking him, Sören surrendering.  
  
"With your consent, of course."  
  
"Well... fuck yes." Sören laughed, delighted. This was a wonderful surprise, and he definitely needed the extra reassurance that giving himself like this, in trust, would bring. But then he had a moment of worry, that maybe Nicholas was just doing this because he thought Sören wanted it and he wasn't really into it. "Only if _you_ truly want to, though. I don't want you to feel obligated if you don't -"  
  
Nicholas put a finger to Sören's lips. "You had told me back in March this was not mandatory, and we've made love plenty of times without it. But since you told me about... your interest... I've found the notion intriguing. Arousing, even." Their eyes met. "I do want this, Sören."  
  
"Jæja, don't just stand there, fucking tie me up already."  
  
Nicholas's laughter rang out. "Not so fast. First..." Nicholas sat on the bed next to Sören and patted his lap. "You're a naughty boy, worrying that Daddy would ever leave you."  
  
A shiver went down Sören's spine. He moved closer and Nicholas took Sören over his knee. Sören's hole twitched and his cock throbbed, already craving release, but he knew what was about to happen was delicious. Nicholas's hand slapped his ass hard. "One."  
  
"Daddy..."  
  
Another smack. "Two."  
  
"Oh god. Daddy. _Fuck..._ " Sören began grinding against Nicholas's thigh.  
  
Another slap, and another. "Three. Four."  
  
" _Daddy!_ "  
  
"Five." Slap. "Six." Smack. "Seven." Swat.  
  
Sören gave an urgent whimper, continuing to rub his hard cock against Nicholas, panting, going out of his mind with lust.  
  
"Eight." Another slap. "Nine." Slap. "Ten." Smack.  
  
"Daddy, oh god, Daddy, please, _please_..." Sören realized how loud he was being - Anthony was right across the hall - and Sören bit his hand, whining.  
  
Nicholas began to rub the stinging flesh - that gentle caress was as arousing as the spanking had been, and Sören whimpered again. Then Nicholas patted Sören's ass, indicating for him to climb down. Sören lay back on the bed and Nicholas smiled at the sight of Sören's cock dripping precum. Sören trembled at the lust in Nicholas's eyes.  
  
Nicholas began to tie Sören's wrists, one scarf for each wrist. "That's a good boy," he husked.  
  
Sören's cock leapt again. He had _such_ a kink for being called "good boy", and Nicholas knew it. When Sören's wrists were secure, he tested the bonds to make sure they weren't too loose or too tight. Sören nodded, and Nicholas climbed over him on the bed.  
  
"You're mine," Nicholas said, looking into Sören's eyes. "This is where you belong. With me. I will never let you go, my own."  
  
With that, Nicholas kissed him. Sören felt almost like he could come just from that alone. He bucked against Nicholas, whining into the kiss. Nicholas gave a deeper groan, and they both moaned as their cocks began to rub together again. Sören let out a cry as Nicholas started to kiss and lick his neck and throat, knowing how sensitive he was. When Nicholas nibbled on the hollow where Sören's neck and shoulder met, before kissing it, Sören cried out again.  
  
"Shhhhhh, my pet." Nicholas smiled. "We shan't disturb our friend across the hall. Here." Sören watched as Nicholas reached down, collecting some of the precum flowing from his cock, and Nicholas stuck his precum-slick index and middle finger in Sören's mouth. Sören sucked obediently, cock throbbing, hole twitching, needing to be filled, enjoying the taste of Nicholas's precum, as Nicholas resumed kissing Sören's neck and then leaned down to begin lapping and suckling his nipples. Sören moaned around the fingers in his mouth as Nicholas feasted, his thumb and index finger rubbing and pinching one nipple while he licked and sucked the other. When Nicholas went to kiss the other nipple, the fingers of his other hand went into Sören's mouth. Sören moaned and whimpered again, completely lost in sensation and lust.  
  
"Such a good boy, trusting Daddy like this." Nicholas gently tugged a nipple ring with his teeth, before drawing the sensitive nub into his mouth, suckling harder than before. His finger and thumb pulled on the other nipple ring before he turned his head to suck that nipple too. Sören made an urgent high-pitched noise around the fingers in his mouth, bucking again.  
  
Nicholas teased him and teased him, licking and suckling one nipple, then the other, back and forth, making Sören's nipples swell and glisten. "So beautiful," Nicholas husked, rubbing a nipple with his thumb as he gave Sören a tender yet predatory smile. "Daddy's beautiful boy."  
  
Sören whined around the fingers in his mouth and bucked against him again. He started to make little keening noises, going out of his mind with the need to be fucked, like he was in heat for it.  
  
Nicholas continued to kiss and rub his nipples, and when Sören felt ready to scream around the fingers in his mouth, Nicholas took his fingers out of Sören's mouth and started to kiss and lick Sören's stomach, another place he was sensitive. He kissed and nibbled Sören's thighs, and at last he started to suck Sören's cock, slowly, focusing on the head as his hand rubbed up and down the shaft. Sören moaned and trembled. "Oh, Daddy..." Nicholas had gotten very good at it. "That's so good..."  
  
"Mmmmmm." Nicholas sucked Sören a little faster and harder, sucked Sören's cock deeper into his mouth, sucking hungrily, then slowed down again, focusing on the head once more, hand working the shaft. He took a few teasing licks at Sören's cock, teasing the frenulum and chasing the flow of precum down the shaft with his tongue, and then he came up and kissed him as he reached into the drawer on the bedtable beside them. Sören groaned as their cocks rubbed together, while their tongues played together. Nicholas pulled back and touched Sören's cheek; Sören grinned when he saw the lube.  
  
Then Sören realized that in the heat of their passion they'd forgotten all about something like a safeword. He and Anthony didn't have one, and he trusted Nicholas to stop if he was told, just like Anthony would. But he still asked anyway. "Uh... do you want me to think of a safeword?"  
  
"I have a better idea." Nicholas gave him a wicked little smile that went straight to Sören's cock, throbbing again. "Of course, you can ask me to stop... but I think even more than that, to _keep going_ , I want to hear you ask for more."  
  
"Oh, _fuck._ " Sören loved begging for more - it made him feel so shameless and wanton - and he knew Nicholas loved hearing him beg. Sören spread and whimpered. "Oh god, fuck me. Fuck me NOW."  
  
Nicholas laughed as he readied them both. "Patience, sweetheart."  
  
"FUCKING FUCK ME," Sören snarled through clenched teeth, feeling like he was going to die if he didn't get Nicholas's cock in him.  
  
Nicholas got between Sören's legs and began to tease him again with just the tip in his opening, in and out, slowly. Sören whined.  
  
"Well?" Nicholas's lips quirked, eyes crinkled with mischief.  
  
Already it was starting. Sören shivered. "More."  
  
"Good boy." Nicholas began to push into him, slowly.  
  
"More... more..."  
  
"That's a good boy."  
  
They kissed once Nicholas was all the way inside. Then Nicholas began to thrust, slow and gentle. Sören whimpered, writhing against the restraints. "More. More..."  
  
When Sören gasped and panted, not making words, Nicholas stopped. "More!" Sören cried out, and Nicholas began thrusting again. "More," Sören begged with each thrust. "Oh god, more..."  
  
When Nicholas sped up, Sören's cries got more urgent. "More, more! More, Daddy, _more_! Oh fuck, give me more... I need more, give me more, fuck me more, Daddy, more..."  
  
Nicholas groaned and nibbled on Sören's shoulder, thrusting harder. Sören moaned - Nicholas's cock was stroking him just right, and he loved begging like this, expressing that need in him, and Nicholas giving him what he needed, Daddy taking care of his boy. Soothing that hurt, abandoned place inside him, reassuring with each thrust, connecting. "More," Sören begged. "Oh god, more. More, more, _more_ , Daddy, more!"  
  
"Good boy," Nicholas whispered. "Daddy's good boy..." He reached down and began stroking Sören's cock.  
  
Sören was losing it, barely able to make words, but he found them to keep begging. "More, more... I want more, Daddy, I want it so bad, give me more, I need Daddy's cock, fuck me more..."  
  
"Good boy." Nicholas started kissing his nipples again, working Sören's cock harder.  
  
Sören bit his lip and whined, and pleaded louder. He was so close, undone more quickly than usual by how utterly wanton this was... and how much Nicholas loved it, slamming away inside him now, an utter beast when provoked. "Daddy. _Daddy._ More, I want more, give me more, _more_..."  
  
Nicholas groaned. Their eyes met and Sören knew then Nicholas was on that edge too, ready to explode.  
  
A few thrusts and strokes later Sören found himself climbing that point of no return. "More, Daddy! More! _More!_ More, more... oh, FUCK!" Sören came hard, shooting an arc of cum over Nicholas's chest, then another, and another.  
  
Nicholas cried out. He shuddered, groaning into Sören's shoulder, and Sören moaned as he felt Nicholas spending inside him.  
  
"I love you." Nicholas looked into Sören's eyes and kissed him deeply.  
  
Sören started to cry. The powerful orgasm - and the very visceral act of Daddy meeting his needs, not abandoning him for being too needy, being too much - overcame him. He had surrendered so fully, and the feeling of trust, letting his guard down completely and being loved like this, moved him.  
  
Nicholas untied Sören's wrists and kissed his tears. "Darling. Are you all right?"  
  
Sören nodded and beamed through his tears. "That. Was fucking. Awesome."  
  
Nicholas smiled. "Yes, I enjoyed myself too." His smile got a little more smug and Sören giggled, booping his nose. Then Sören flexed his wrists, which were a little sore from being tied up, before he wrapped his arms around Nicholas, squeezing him.  
  
"I love you so much." Nicholas pet Sören's curls, rubbed his chest. "And I am not going anywhere. You are the light of my life. The fire that warms these old bones."  
  
"I like one of those bones in particular."  
  
Nicholas facepalmed and shook with silent laughter, then he tweaked Sören's nose playfully. Sören grinned - he loved it when Nicholas was a bit silly. Nicholas rolled his eyes, smiling. "You're terrible."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
"And wonderful." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose, and then rolled onto his side, pulling Sören against his chest. Sören sighed with contentment as Nicholas's arms tightened around him. "You are everything I never knew I wanted, or needed."  
  
"Good." Sören looked up at him, still crying a little, touched by his words. "You too."  
  
Nicholas patted him. "I wish you wouldn't worry about losing me." Nicholas smirked then. "I'm never going to give you up. Never going to let you down..."  
  
"OH GOD."  
  
"Never going to run around and desert you -"  
  
"What is it with you and old memes?"  
  
"You belong here." Nicholas was a bit more serious now. Their eyes met, and held. "You belong to me." Then he grinned. "All your base are belong to us."  
  
"What you say!"  
  
"You have no chance to survive. Make your time."  
  
Sören wheezed, shaking with laughter. Now he was crying from laughter, his sides and face hurting. He hadn't expected that Nicholas would have even heard of that meme, let alone would be using it in the afterglow of sex. Hearing "you have no chance to survive" in Nicholas's deep, cultured voice made it even funnier.  
  
Nicholas closed his eyes with a little smile on his face and a few minutes later Sören knew he was asleep. Sören was feeling a bit sleepy too, after the intense orgasm, but just as he closed his own eyes he heard a cry from Anthony's room.  
  
Sören's eyes opened. His first instinct was to go across the hall and ask Anthony if he was OK, and then he realized the timing of it. He was still listening more closely now, and sure enough seconds later there was that telltale shuddery gasp.  
  
Sören couldn't help smiling. And though he had been on his way to sleep himself, now he was awake... and his cock was hard again, thinking about Anthony stroking himself to climax. Nicholas was still asleep, so Sören rolled over not to disturb him, Nicholas's chest against his back, and he began to relieve himself, fantasizing about what he'd just heard... the delicious thought that Anthony was aroused by listening to them. Soon Sören's thoughts turned to a what-if scenario of inviting Anthony to a threesome and the thought of the three of them all kissing, caressing, sucking and fucking each other sent Sören off, coming fast and hard, trying not to cry out.  
  
Spent, Sören closed his eyes. A few minutes later Nicholas's arms were circled around him and Nicholas made a sleepy noise. Sören sighed, peaceful, and drifted into sleep.


	27. All I Want For Christmas Is You

After dinner, Anthony was watching a documentary with Nicholas, but he kept being distracted by hearing Sören moving around upstairs, swearing in Icelandic. After a few times Anthony's gaze met Nicholas's across the room and Nicholas shook his head and rolled his eyes, smirking.  
  
"What is he _doing_ up there?" Anthony asked.  
  
"Gift wrapping," Nicholas said. It was the twenty-third of December, a Wednesday evening.  
  
Anthony started laughing, not able to help it. Then he heard Sören yell, "TOBIAS!" at the top of his lungs. Nicholas's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"It _must_ be serious _indeed_ if he is calling our cat by the proper name," Nicholas said. He rose from the couch and headed for the bottom of the stairs. He called up, "Sören, dear heart, is everything all right?"  
  
Before Sören could answer, Tobias came trotting downstairs with a torn piece of wrapping paper in his mouth. Anthony lost it, and harder when Sören came to the top of the stairs, looking like he wanted to set everything on fire. Which Anthony found adorable and sexy all at once.  
  
"Everything's fine," Sören gritted out. "Just fine." Then he looked down at Tobias, who chirped with the wrapping paper in his mouth before he scampered off to his cat tree. Anthony laughed harder as he heard Tobias tearing at the wrapping paper from the cat tree. "Fucking cat," Sören said. "I love Toby, but he's a _dick_."  
  
" _Tobias_ is a rapscallion," Nicholas said, chuckling.  
  
Anthony and Sören both snickered, mutually amused by Nicholas's old-fashioned language and the insistence at using the cat's full name.  
  
" _Toby_ is a _dickscallion_ ," Sören said. Anthony laughed harder, and Nicholas gave Sören a look before he laughed as well.  
  
Then Nicholas sighed. "For years I didn't have anyone to give gifts to, but last year I learnt I had to shut him out of the room if there was gift wrapping involved. I'm sorry I didn't warn you -"  
  
"Well, I should have realized, he's a cat." Sören shrugged. "I'll... shut the door when I go back up." He gave Nicholas a hug and a little kiss. "You're not alone this year, _elskan._ " Then Sören went back upstairs and Nicholas sat back down.  
  
Anthony fought the urge to go over to Nicholas and give him a hug too, feeling sad - even when he was single and feeling bitterly _lonely_ , he'd at least had his parents and a few co-workers to gift things to. The thought of Nicholas spending each Christmas alone for years on end...  
  
"No one should be alone on Christmas," Anthony said, swallowing hard. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Nicholas waved his hand, not looking particularly bothered. "I wasn't alone. When I was a priest I used to feed people at my parish. After I left the Church, I still continued to see the value in giving to others - kindness is my religion, nowadays. So, I usually volunteer at a shelter to feed the hungry and homeless on the holidays. Last year was the first year in decades that I did not, because as you know, I had other people to look after."  
  
Anthony still ached, both continuing to feel bad that Nicholas didn't have family or friends to spend the holidays with, and admiring Nicholas for his altruism. People like Nicholas were a force for good in the world, and Anthony appreciated that very much, having seen the darker side of humanity on a regular basis for years in his career as a criminal defense barrister. The world had seemed especially dark and cruel after Sören left, and living with Sören and Nicholas was the balm and balance he would need in his life when he returned to work after the holidays.  
  
Then he ached in a different way. He didn't want to _like_ Nicholas Decaux any more than he already did. His cheeks burned - he didn't want to find it _sexy_ that Nicholas had that sense of decency and compassion. It was bad enough that he'd been masturbating to the sound of them making love across the hall, most nights, his body responding too much to the delicious mental image of what Sören and Nicholas looked like together, naked, coupling, in the throes of passion. He didn't want to want Nicholas, too. He had a feeling Nicholas wasn't interested, even if he was gay. _Not every gay man wants to fuck everything that moves._  
  
But even though hugging Nicholas was like playing with fire, Anthony still felt the urge to. If nothing else, he wanted to let Nicholas know how grateful he was for allowing him to stay with them... for reaching out to him when he didn't have to.  
  
Before he could make that move, his cell phone started to go off. It was his mother. Noticing his reaction, Nicholas turned down the volume on the television and went to the kitchen to give Anthony a little privacy. Anthony swiped to accept the call. "Mum, hi."  
  
"Hello, dear. Am I calling at a bad time?"  
  
"No," Anthony said, though he felt slightly guilty about interrupting the program they were watching. Then again, Tobias was even more guilty; Anthony chuckled as he heard another rip of wrapping paper from the cat tree. "What's going on?" He had a feeling his mother was going to be calling soon to invite him to Christmas, and this was the reason for the call, nonetheless he didn't like to assume.  
  
"Well, I wanted to invite you, Sören, and Nicholas over tomorrow night for Christmas."  
  
"Oh! And you mean tomorrow night Christmas Eve... not Christmas Day?"  
  
"Correct. Your father just gave me an early Christmas present - we're leaving on Christmas morning to go to Jamaica for a week. I didn't know until a half-hour ago." Elaine chuckled.  
  
Anthony was surprised Roger had done something so spontaneous - and romantic. That wasn't like him. He hoped his father wasn't in trouble. _Or ill._ Anthony's brow furrowed. He mentally kicked himself, not wanting to panic about his father's motivations for the getaway. _Stop being a bloody lawyer for five minutes._ "Wow, Mum. That's... that's really something."  
  
"Anyway, consider yourselves invited to Christmas Eve. You don't need to call back to RSVP in case one of them can't make it - I know poor Sören has to work so much. I'll just make enough food for everyone and you can take home whatever leftovers there are. But if you want a ride..."  
  
Anthony was willing to relax his stance on independence and accept a ride from his mother, since it would be easier than trying to get a cab or wrangle public transport. "Please, yes. How does six PM sound?"  
  
"Perfect. I'll see you then."  
  
"Thank you, Mum. Good night. Love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
When the call ended, Anthony glanced over at Nicholas in the kitchen, who was making tea. "I don't know how much of that you caught..."  
  
"You're going to your parents' tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes. All of us are invited." Though Anthony felt a twinge of anxiety about it - his mother was still under the assumption that he and Sören were back together, especially now with them living together again. And while his mother hadn't come right out and said it, Anthony knew she now also assumed that Anthony was involved with both Sören and Nicholas. He knew that assumption, and him not correcting it, could be potentially awkward.  
  
"As much as I like your mother, and I normally would accept, I'm afraid I must decline. I'm surprised Sören hasn't told you, but I _am_ going to the shelter tomorrow night to help cook and serve a nice big meal for Christmas Eve. Geir and Craig are coming along with me since, as you know, Karen is leaving to visit her parents in Sheffield for the holidays, tomorrow morning."  
  
Anthony felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. "All right. Is... is Sören coming with you?"  
  
"I believe his plans were to stay home with you and watch Christmas movies, so you can ask him if he'd prefer to come along to your parents', I'm sure he'll say yes." Nicholas frowned a little. "I apologize for not asking you if you wanted to come to the shelter for Christmas Eve, but I didn't know how standing for long periods of time and moving around a kitchen -"  
  
"It's all right," Anthony said. He knew Nicholas wasn't trying to exclude him, but be mindful of his mobility issues, and the fact was, he couldn't do intensive kitchen labor unless he had a chair on wheels that was tall enough to allow him to work at a counter space. He still felt a little irritated, not with Nicholas, but with another thing he couldn't do without adaptations. "I'll... go upstairs and ask Sören, then."  
  
Nicholas nodded and turned the volume up again.  
  
Anthony hobbled upstairs. He could hear wrapping paper and a stereo playing - Anthony grinned at "Christmas In Hollis" by Run-DMC. He gently knocked at Sören's bedroom door. "Ho, ho, ho," Anthony said.  
  
Sören opened the door. He looked down the hall, presumably to see if Tobias had followed, and then gestured for Anthony to come in, closing the door behind him.  
  
Anthony felt a little weird about being in Sören and Nicholas's bedroom - _this is the room where they have sex_ \- and he didn't want the mental images of Sören and Nicholas making love, not wanting to get obviously aroused. He saw Sören was wrapping what looked like a very large picture frame, using green wrapping paper with cartoony Christmas trees and cats playing with Christmas ornaments.  
  
"That's for Karen," Sören explained. "I know that we're doing Boxing Day with her since she's going up to Sheffield, but since I'm wrapping other presents I decided to wrap that one too."  
  
Anthony smiled at the wrapping paper. "Good choice. And accurate." He snickered.  
  
"Fucking tell me about it." Sören laughed too. "I have two sheets, there's that and then there's this." Sören took a roll of wrapping paper that was about half-gone, resting against the armchair. It was red and had snowflakes and cartoon dogs with Santa hats. "Anyway, did you come to help? Gifts are mostly wrapped, and you can't see yours." Sören booped his nose.  
  
Just that little touch made Anthony tingle. He shook his head. "I came to ask you a question. We got invited to Mum's tomorrow night, do you want to come?"  
  
Sören nodded without hesitation. "I don't know if Nick told you, but he's taking Geir and Craig to the shelter tomorrow night to feed the homeless. I would have gone with him but he didn't think you were up to standing in the kitchen and at the serving queue and I didn't want you to be alone on Christmas Eve so I was just gonna put on some cheesy Christmas movies and stuff."  
  
"Yeah, Mum is doing Christmas Eve instead of Christmas Day because Dad is taking her to Jamaica."  
  
Sören's eyes widened and he started laughing. "Wow, is your dad like 'son moved out, time to get back into _romance_ , nudge nudge wink wink, here's a place to romp around in a bikini'?"  
  
" _Sören._ " Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to think about _my parents having sex._ "  
  
"Sorry." Sören didn't look sorry at all.  
  
Anthony couldn't help laughing too. He buried his face in his hands and made noises, trying to chase away those godawful mental images. His brain helpfully supplied new ones of Sören and Nicholas writhing on the very bed he was sitting on. "I suppose it's better than the conclusion I drew. I thought my parents might have had a row and this was Dad's peace offering."  
  
"Jæja, you're a defense lawyer, you would have jumped to the worst possible conclusion."  
  
Anthony breathed a sigh of relief, and mentally kicked himself again for worrying. Then he said, "Anyway, Mum's coming at six tomorrow."  
  
At the look on Sören's face, Anthony knew where his mind went with "Mum's coming" and Anthony picked up a pillow and swatted him with it. "Sören _Sigurðsson_ , I swear to GOD."  
  
Sören picked up another pillow and swatted Anthony in return, and soon they were in a full-on pillow fight, throwing pillows at each other, smacking each other with pillows, until Anthony just threw down the pillow he was holding, grabbed Sören and pushed him back, pinning Sören with his weight and tickling him. Sören screamed and giggled, tickling Anthony back. Anthony doubled over, barely able to breathe, and moved his hands from Sören's sides to his armpits, knowing Sören was even more ticklish there. Sören screeched and giggled even harder until he was snorting, making inhuman snorts that made Anthony laugh so hard it hurt. Then there was scratching at the door and Tobias howling, as if to say he was very concerned about the noises in there and wanted to be let in.  
  
"Fucking cat," Sören said, not unkindly. Then his eyes met Anthony's. Anthony realized he was on top of Sören, and the moment was electric. Sören's pupils were blown wide, and his lips parted invitingly. It was so tempting to just lean in and kiss him... to undo the buttons of Sören's flannel shirt one by one, kiss the creamy flesh exposed...  
  
Tobias scratched at the door again and wailed.  
  
Anthony rolled off of Sören, and Sören got up and let the cat in. Then he quickly put the half-wrapped painting in the wardrobe, so the cat couldn't get at the wrapping paper. Tobias meowed and Sören skritched him before he got back on the bed. Tobias walked on him and Sören scooped the cat into his arms, smiling as the cat began to purr loudly. They both pet him and their fingers brushed. Every nerve in Anthony's body was screaming for sexual conquest and release.  
  
There was a long moment of silence, as if they were both quietly acknowledging the sexual tension between them, and Anthony decided that was a good segue into what would be an awkward subject - he hoped Sören wouldn't be terribly angry with him - but it needed to be addressed before Sören was around his mother for hours, with all the assumptions she had. "Sören, there's something I need to tell you."  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
"OK." Anthony stopped petting Tobias, rubbed his face, put his hands in his lap, looked down, and then over at Sören. "I have to come clean with you about something. My mum thinks we're back together. She's thought that for awhile. I haven't explicitly confirmed that, but I haven't explicitly denied it, either. I've let her keep assuming it, so I guess you could call it lying by omission. But I felt it would be difficult to explain, especially because..." Anthony exhaled sharply. "She thought of you as being like a second son. When we broke up, she was very upset. This year has been hard on her, with her mother dying, and my accident, and... my mental health issues both before and after the accident. She was _so happy_ when you came back into my life. I know you've emphasized honesty and I'm aware something like this is probably violating your trust, but please, _please_ understand -"  
  
"Anthony."  
  
"Oh god." Anthony gasped, realizing how bad everything sounded. He had, after all, gone behind Sören's back at the end because he didn't want to burden or upset him. This was another case of being dishonest with someone because he didn't want to upset them. _Oh god. He's going to think I'm going to do this to him again -_ Anthony braced himself to be told to get out.  
  
"Anthony." Sören put a hand on his shoulder, and patted him. "It's all right."  
  
"What?" Anthony couldn't believe what he was hearing. He breathed.  
  
Sören nodded. "Look. I don't want you to take this as a pass to, you know, lie to me about shit. But _in this particular circumstance_ I understand why you didn't want to have that talk with her, 'well you see, Sören decided we need to wait and'... I get it."  
  
"Thank you." Anthony breathed again. He felt ready to cry. "I'm sorry -"  
  
"Again. Don't take this as a pass. I still want you to be honest _with me_ even if you think the truth is going to upset me. I _do_ wish you'd told me about this awhile ago, but I know there probably wasn't a good time for it and not much chance I'd be around your mum for such an extended period of time that our relationship status would have come up. But I'm not angry, I get it that, ah, this is... not the same situation as, well... you know." Sören didn't have to spell it out; Anthony did indeed know.  
  
"Thank you," Anthony said again. Then he frowned - it wasn't over yet. "Do you want me to have a talk with her?"  
  
"No," Sören said. "If anything, explaining that shit to her now is going to be even weirder than if you'd explained it right away when I told you we needed to wait. So..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "We'll... play the game. We'll let her assume we're a couple. It's not like we really have to act much different than we normally do."  
  
"I imagine that if she wasn't leaving for Jamaica in the morning she'd be inviting us to spend the night, so we dodged a bullet there."  
  
Sören nodded. Then Sören smirked, and started to shake with silent laughter.  
  
"What?" Anthony was confused.  
  
"I kind of suspected she thought you, me and Nick were..." Sören couldn't contain his laughter anymore. Tobias hopped down from Sören's arms and made a beeline for the wrapping paper. Before Sören could stop him, he tore off another piece and ran away with the prize in his mouth. "DICK!" Sören called after the cat. Then Sören realized he'd finished the sentence with that and he said, "Jæja, that you, me and Nick were dick. Exactly."  
  
Anthony facepalmed, also laughing, but he didn't want to start thinking about Sören and Nicholas going at it again... or fantasizing about the three of them together. Anthony's face burned and his cock stirred in his jeans. _Dammit._  
  
Sören's laughter rang out. He rubbed Anthony's shoulder and patted. "I won't tell her otherwise. She can, ah, keep thinking that." Sören attempted to wink, making a clumsy blink instead, and then Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
Anthony got the sense that Sören liked that idea. Anthony's face was _really_ on fire now. He was tempted to ask if Sören wanted to break the rules and go for it tonight. But he didn't. He did, however, need to get out of there before his libido got the better of him and he asked that question. "I'm going to ring Karen," Anthony said. That wasn't a lie - he'd been planning on calling her this evening to wish her a safe trip tomorrow - but now it was a convenient excuse to get out of there before he ended up kissing Sören and asking him for sex. He hadn't offended Sören about his mother's assumptions and the way he'd handled it, which was good, but he had a feeling that asking to break the rules would be a problem, and he didn't want to deal with a rejection from Nicholas. It was better to not broach that subject at all.  
  
Anthony got up and hobbled across to his room. Before he took out his cell phone he took a few deep breaths. Then he heard a "Prrrp?" and felt Tobias hop up on the bed. Tobias had brought him the piece of stolen wrapping paper as a gift. Anthony laughed and gave the cat some pets, soothing his own anxiety.  
  
  
_  
  
  
In the late afternoon of Christmas Eve, Anthony went with Nicholas and Sören to meet Geir, Craig, Ben and Pierre at Starbucks. Nicholas was treating everyone before they went off for their respective activities of the evening - Geir and Craig joining Nicholas at the shelter to cook and serve a big meal, Ben and Pierre going caroling with some of Ben's theater friends, and of course, Anthony and Sören going to Anthony's mother's house.  
  
Anthony was pleasantly surprised to see Craig on the Starbucks trip, feeling bad that he'd been excluded from get-togethers at Starbucks, but the tension between him and Ben was less than it had been, and they were even sitting next to each other in the cafe, with Pierre on the other side of Ben.  
  
"What are your plans for Christmas Day, Craig?" Nicholas asked after they sat down with their drinks. "As you know, you're invited to join us -"  
  
"I would," Craig said, "but I'm going to see my parents tomorrow. And my little sister, Fiona."  
  
"Oh good, I'm glad you're seeing her," Sören said.  
  
Craig nodded. "I dropped out of touch with her when... well, you know." Craig looked down. "I didn't want her to see me when I was using, or when I was newly clean and struggling so much. But I call or e-mail her at least once a week, now."  
  
Sören was sitting between Craig and Anthony, and Sören leaned over to give Craig a kiss on the cheek. Craig smiled and kissed the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
Ben immediately began making vomiting noises. "I'm getting diabetes over here."  
  
Sören grinned. "Hi Getting Diabetes Over Here -"  
  
Ben wadded up a napkin and threw it at him.  
  
"Children," Nicholas said in a stern tone of voice, though his eyes showed amusement. Then Nicholas said, "Will you be coming for Boxing Day, then?"  
  
Craig nodded.  
  
Sören snickered, and Anthony knew immediately Sören was thinking of Craig "coming for Boxing Day" in another sense. Craig turned beetroot and Sören shook with silent laughter, as did Craig, while Ben rolled his eyes and made more vomit noises, but Ben was laughing too.  
  
"I'm glad you guys are happy," Ben said, and then he wagged his finger at Sören and said, "and don't you bloody -"  
  
"Hi Glad You Guys Are Happy And Don't You Bloody."  
  
Ben made noises. He gave Pierre a "help me" look and Pierre just patted him on the head, smiling too.  
  
"We'd still like to come for Boxing Day," Pierre informed Nicholas, "even though we're also coming over for Christmas dinner tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, I need to give Karen her present," Ben said. Then he looked at Craig. "And you."  
  
"You..." Craig swallowed hard. "You got me something?"  
  
"Of course I did, you muppet."  
  
"Wow, Craig's a muppet too? I guess I am Muppetsexual," Sören said before taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
Anthony facepalmed, chuckling, as Ben, Pierre and Geir all lost it. Sören explained to Craig, "That's Anthony Muppet-Johnson."  
  
"I see," Craig said.  
  
"So apparently you guys are related now," Sören said with a smirk, taking another sip of coffee. "One big muppety family."  
  
Nicholas changed the subject - Anthony had a feeling Nicholas didn't want to fall into the trap of being called a "furry monster" again. "Ben, you were wonderful in _Guys And Dolls_ ," Nicholas said; he and Sören had taken Anthony to see Ben on stage last week, where Ben was leading as Sky Masterson, even though Sören was swamped following his weekend away with Karen and had looked ready to drop at the theatre. It was a testament to how much Sören cared about his friends, that he was willing to go.  
  
Anthony nodded. "I'm usually not a theatre person but you have an outstanding voice."  
  
"Thank you," Ben said. Then he glanced at Pierre, who nodded, and Ben looked back at the others. "Actually I have an announcement to make, on that note."  
  
Sören began to make a drum roll on the table. Craig did too.  
  
Ben cleared his throat. "I've been offered the role of Will Parker in an East End production of _Oklahoma!_ "  
  
Craig's eyes widened. "You've been wanting that part for _years._ "  
  
Ben nodded solemnly.  
  
Craig reached over and gave Ben a hug. Ben accepted the hug, putting his arms around Craig and patting his back.  
  
When they pulled apart, Ben explained, "It's not just one of my dream roles, but the offer came from a bigger production company than the one that put on _Guys And Dolls_. Bigger venues, more people are going to see it -"  
  
Nicholas raised his cup of coffee. "Congratulations. Let us know time and place, and we'll be there -"  
  
"It starts in March, and will run regular shows through May," Ben said. "We're touring, starting off in London, but we'll also be playing in Manchester and Milton Keynes and Bath and Glasgow and Cardiff, among other places."  
  
"Holy shit," Sören said. Then he pouted. "Awww, I'm gonna miss you, being on tour."  
  
"I'll be back," Ben said in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. Then in his normal voice he said, "I'll send e-mails with photos and reserve time for Skype or whatever chat app people want to use. I'll miss you guys too, though."  
  
"I mean, I get it. This is your big break." Sören smiled. "I'm so proud of you."  
  
Ben smiled back. "Hi So Proud Of You."  
  
Sören stuck out his tongue - Anthony tried not to think lewd thoughts of Sören using that tongue - and then Pierre cleared his throat and all eyes were on him. "I have an important announcement too," Pierre said.  
  
Ben's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened - whatever it was, apparently was news to him as well.  
  
The group watched as Pierre rose from the table, produced something from his pocket, and dropped to his knees at Ben's side, opening a small box with a ring inside. "Will you marry me?" Pierre asked him.  
  
Ben's jaw dropped and then he just nodded. "Yes," he said, and his face lit up as he burst into tears.  
  
Pierre slipped the ring on his finger and they hugged. People around the cafe were standing up and cheering now; Sören, Nicholas, Geir and Craig all got up to give standing ovations, and Anthony rose on his cane as well. But as glad as Anthony was for them - Pierre and Ben seemed like they made a nice couple, they were happy together - Anthony nonetheless felt a twinge of pain and regret. He had proposed to Sören on Christmas Eve in 2012, and of course that hadn't worked out, with Sören pulling the ring off his finger and throwing it across the flat on his way out a month before their wedding. Anthony still had the ring, it came from a jeweler in Switzerland and he hadn't had the heart to try to sell it, or throw it away, so he kept it in a small box with other mementos, like photographs of Sören. At the peak of his depression in late 2014, Anthony had regularly looked through the photographs, held the ring, and wept. Anthony thought of that now as he watched Ben and Pierre cuddling, basking in the glow of their joy and hope for the future. He didn't want to be bitter and resentful of other people's happiness, and he felt guilty for it. He also couldn't help it.  
  
And as he and Sören looked at each other and their eyes met, and Sören's smile faded, Anthony knew Sören was thinking the same thing. He knew Sören had been hurt even more, in that situation, and Anthony would give anything to undo what he had done and spare Sören that hurt. They had been moving forward, but that didn't negate the past.  
  
Anthony felt like he'd been punched in the gut as he sat back down. But then, as Ben and Pierre nuzzled and stole a kiss, Craig said, "You're giving _me_ diabetes now."  
  
"Wait, I have medicine," Sören said. "I'm a doctor." With that, he smirked and pulled something out of his own pocket. It was the wooden kazoo from his birthday. He began to play "Careless Whisper" on the kazoo. Ben and Pierre both groaned and chuckled, rolling their eyes.  
  
 _Nice save,_ Anthony thought; it was hard to be angsty when Sören was playing the kazoo.  
  
  
_  
  
  
After the Starbucks trip Sören and Anthony went back to the flat to await pickup from Elaine, while Nicholas, Geir and Craig collected Christmas cookies that Sören had made large batches of yesterday, letting them take three of the five trays to the shelter. Anthony was feeling keyed up again, not just because of the way Pierre's proposal to Ben was making him think about what he'd lost with Sören, but also because of the necessity of him and Sören "playing the game" to avoid an awkward explanation to his mother about how they weren't actually back together yet. Anthony realized that some of his anxiety was hinging on the potential for Sören to decide next summer that they weren't getting back together after all, even though Anthony was in therapy and had made friends.  
  
But his more immediate concern was getting through the night with as little awkwardness as possible. And since his gift to Sören was of a more personal nature, he needed to corner Sören before they left. When Sören went upstairs to the restroom, Anthony followed and waited at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall to support himself.  
  
"Sören, can I talk to you for a minute?" Anthony asked when Sören came out of the bathroom.  
  
Sören nodded and gestured for Anthony to follow him; they went to Anthony's bedroom.  
  
"What's up?" Sören asked.  
  
"Mum is going to ask us what we got each other for Christmas, and if we don't know yet, she'll probably want us to open our gifts in front of each other. I'd rather not you open what I got you in front of her, if it's all the same to you, so... do you think we could exchange gifts now?"  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow - Anthony could practically see the wheels of curiosity spinning in his head - and then he nodded. "OK. Wait here."  
  
Sören went across to his bedroom. Anthony went in the drawer of his desk and pulled out the flat rectangular box that held Sören's present, which he'd had professionally gift-wrapped following a therapy session; the wrapping paper was gold with a pattern of glittery snowflakes, and the bow was silver.  
  
Sören came back lugging something wrapped into the shape of a giant cock-and-balls. Anthony had to sit down from laughing too hard, tearing up. "Sören. _Sören._ What..."  
  
The phallic shape of whatever it was, was made even more comical by the cartoon cats on the wrapping paper. Anthony couldn't breathe. His face hurt.  
  
Sören grinned, looking proud of himself. "Well?"  
  
Anthony picked up Sören's present and handed it to him. "You..." He struggled for words. "You first."  
  
"OK." Sören sat down next to him on the bed, propping the giant wrapping paper phallus up on the armchair. Anthony lost it again, leaning on Sören, wheezing.  
  
"Goddammit..." Anthony couldn't stop looking at the enormous wrapping paper cock.  
  
Sören patted him and then began to tear off the wrapping paper.  
  
"I didn't want the Yule Cat to eat you," Anthony explained as the wrapping paper came off and Sören held the unwrapped box. "This should technically count as clothing."  
  
It was a pair of bikini briefs for men, in Sören's size... a bright blue with pink and orange hibiscus flowers and gold pineapples. The underwear was intentionally gaudy. Now Sören was the one to crack up laughing, flomping back on the bed in hysterics.  
  
"Since you liked the pineapple for your birthday last month," Anthony said.  
  
"I see this is a theme now," Sören choked out.  
  
The underwear was ridiculous, though somehow thinking of Sören in it didn't detract from his sex appeal at all; if anything Anthony found Sören his sexiest when he was being silly.  
  
Sören sat up and took the underwear out to admire it, giggling, then saw the underwear wasn't the only thing in the box. There was a red envelope that he opened and found a terrible pop-up card of Elvis Presley in a beefcake Santa outfit that played "Blue Christmas" when opened - Sören started laughing again, though his expression softened when he saw the writing in the card: _"It would be a blue Christmas without you."_  
  
"Awwwwwwwww," Sören said. "You too." Before Sören could get all choked up he saw two gift cards inside the Christmas card, one for Balthazar, and another for Greenleaf.  
  
"I hope you don't mind that I got you another gift card for Greenleaf," Anthony said.  
  
Sören shook his head. "No, not at all. It's an excuse for us to go there together so I can spend it." He gave Anthony a hug, and then he shook with laughter again. "The underwear. The Elvis card. I can't."  
  
"I tried," Anthony said. "I wanted to find something suitably over-the-top."  
  
"You sure did. Well, speaking of top..." Sören reached and handed him the wrapping paper phallus.  
  
Anthony collapsed onto Sören, laughing. He tried not to think about topping Sören, or letting Sören top him.  
  
"Here, wait, before you unwrap it..." Sören took out his cell phone and started snapping candids of Anthony holding the giant wrapping paper phallus on his lap, laughing.  
  
"Jesus, Sören."  
  
"Jesus Sören? So is it Sörenmas now?" Sören stroked his chin. "That might be why the solstice was for orgies in different cultures -" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lip. "Gives a whole new meaning to Saint Nick deciding who's naughty or nice."  
  
Anthony _really_ didn't want to think about Sören and Nicholas fucking again, not wanting to be horny just before his mother came to get them, and, looking at the clock, Anthony knew that was soon. He began to tear the wrapping paper.  
  
Whatever it was, had several layers of tissue around it, which contributed to why Sören had been able to create a cock-and-balls shape. But there was indeed a core inside the wrapping paper, something tall and hard.  
  
"I hope the Yule Cat will count this as part of an outfit, since it's an accessory," Sören explained, which piqued Anthony's curiosity even more.  
  
And at last Anthony found it. It was a cane, made of heavy dark wood, where the grip was a shark cast in silver. Anthony laughed, delighted - it was silly, but also serious and elegant at the same time. It was fancier than the cane he used now...  
  
"I had that custom made for you based on your height and weight requirements. I figured if you use that in the courtroom, it'll make a statement to remind people who you are," Sören said.  
  
Anthony threw his arms around Sören, hugging him tight. He swallowed hard, tearing up again, not just from amusement but also because he was deeply touched. He'd been worried about looking awkward in the courtroom with his cane, and he'd been considering buying something a little dressier but cane shopping was a bit of a sore spot for him. This was _perfect_ to bring to work, and to assist him pacing the floor in the courtroom.  
  
"Thank you," Anthony said. "I love it." He really did.  
  
"Good, I'm relieved. I worried you might get offended, but -"  
  
"No," Anthony said. "It's brilliant." His eyes met Sören's. "So are you."  
  
Sören touched his cheek, sending a frisson down his spine. Then Sören rose from the bed. "Come on, let's go wait for your mum."  
  
Anthony tested out his new cane right away and there wasn't really a difference between the support of the old cane and the new. He decided he'd walk on the new cane tonight. Maybe he'd just walk on it all the time; already he felt a little more confident.  
  
As they went downstairs, Anthony started laughing again at the phallic packaging, and then he realized aloud, "Oh god, this is made of wood."  
  
Sören nodded, beaming. "You finally caught that."  
  
They were still laughing by the time Elaine pulled up.  
  
  
_  
  
After Christmas dinner, Sören and Anthony sat on one of the couches in the greatroom, Roger and Elaine on another. A fire was going in the hearth, and Elaine started looking through the DVDs for an appropriate Christmas movie to watch.  
  
Anthony was having a glass of cognac, while Sören sipped a Sprite. "God, I'm going to burst." Sören patted his stomach. "Thank you, Elaine, dinner was _lovely._ "  
  
Elaine had gone all out for Christmas dinner, as usual. There were appetizers of bacon-wrapped shrimp and smoked salmon. Elaine had made roast beef with gratin potatoes, roasted parsnips, crispy brussel sprouts with bacon, and of course, Yorkshire pudding. ("I've been here for five years and I still haven't figured out why the English call everything pudding," Sören quipped over the dinner table.) Elaine was insisting they take leftovers, since she and Roger were leaving for Jamaica in the morning. Anthony thought the roast beef would make nice sandwiches, but he also didn't want to think about food for awhile, stuffed to the gills himself.  
  
Elaine sat down and smiled as the movie came on. When Anthony saw what it was, he heard himself mutter "oh no" as Sören spat his drink and fell over on him in hysterics: it was _A Muppet Christmas Carol_.  
  
"What's wrong?" Elaine frowned. "I thought you liked the Muppets, Anthony -"  
  
Sören was laughing even harder.  
  
Anthony _did_ like the Muppets, but of course, Sören was never going to let "Anthony Muppet-Johnson" go, and sure enough a few minutes into the movie Sören leaned in close to Anthony and whispered, "It figures we would watch a Muppet movie at the Muppet-Johnson residence."  
  
Anthony gave him a look, and tweaked Sören's nose. Elaine gave them an indulgent smile.  
  
"It's good to see you happy again," Roger said, and raised his glass of whisky.  
  
And though they weren't actually back together yet, Anthony realized he was, actually, happy. Nor was it a stretch to pretend to be back together - Sören and Anthony leaned on each other during the movie, and Anthony found himself putting an arm around Sören as he propped up his leg, and as the movie was almost done, Sören put his leg on the ottoman next to Anthony's and began casually playing footsie.  
  
There was one more film to watch before Elaine was taking them home, and between movies they had an intermission. Elaine brought out egg nog and Roger looked at Sören. "You said you made those Christmas biscuits you know I like?" Roger asked. "The Icelandic ones?"  
  
Sören nodded. "I sure did."  
  
"I can go get them," Elaine said.  
  
"No, it's OK." Sören hopped up from the couch. "You did enough, allow me."  
  
Anthony found himself hobbling along after Sören into the kitchen, even though Sören was capable of carrying the tray of cookies by himself - he took the egg nog from his mother to put back in the fridge, wanting to do something. Elaine still hovered in the hall, which rankled Anthony slightly, as if he were a small child at a playground and his mummy was making sure he didn't fall. But then Elaine poked her head in and grinned, and Anthony realized this time it wasn't to keep an eye on him, or if it had to do with that she was concealing it.  
  
"I'm sorry," Elaine said. "I don't mean to spy. I'm just..." Elaine put a hand on her heart. "I'm _so happy_ to see you together again, and to have you here for Christmas."  
  
Sören smiled. Anthony felt that twinge of guilt, but Sören took it in stride, putting an arm around Anthony's waist. Sören's touch sent a shiver through him.  
  
Then Elaine looked up at the ceiling, and back down at them, and gave them an expectant look. Anthony was confused, and then he looked up and saw he and Sören were standing directly under the mistletoe.  
  
Sören and Anthony looked at each other, and then Sören pulled him close. Their lips met, and Anthony heard his mother walking off.  
  
But the kiss didn't break just because his mother was walking away to give them privacy. Now their tongues met, and Anthony groaned into the kiss. His hands trembled as they slid over Sören's sweater, wanting to peel it off, wanting to touch Sören's bare flesh, wanting to touch every inch of him. The kiss deepened, tongues teasing, and Anthony's thumb grazed a pierced nipple through the fabric of Sören's sweater. Now Sören moaned into the kiss and his hands roamed down Anthony's back to cup and rub his ass, possessively.  
  
When they pulled apart they were breathing harder, and Sören was giving him a look that could drill granite. "We shouldn't do this," Sören whispered.  
  
"No, we shouldn't," Anthony whispered back.  
  
Sören pulled Anthony closer and kissed him again. Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him back, all of the passion and fire coming back to him. His cock was waking up, and he entertained the fantasy of pushing Sören against the kitchen counter and taking him, even though he couldn't fuck standing up anymore, nor was sex a good idea in the kitchen of his parents' home, or in general. _We're not back together yet. We can't do this,_ Anthony scolded himself in his thoughts. But Sören's full, soft lips were so delicious, and he tasted sweet from the Sprite, and Anthony _wanted_.  
  
They pulled back. Sören was flushed, his eyes glittering. "We need to behave," Sören said, giving him a stern look, though his eyes were full of mischief - and want. "We still need to, ah. Wait."  
  
"Agreed," Anthony said. But as they left the kitchen, Sören took Anthony's free hand, and just that touch alone was arousing him.  
  
Then, as they stepped into the greatroom, Sören facepalmed. "I forgot the biscuits," he said. "Sorry, I got, ah. Distracted."  
  
Sören ran back down the hall to the kitchen - Anthony couldn't help chuckling as he sat down. Sören came back in a moment later with the tray of Christmas cookies, beetroot and flustered. Elaine grinned again as Sören sat back down next to Anthony. Sören looked _so_ worked up that Anthony laughed a bit harder. Sören shot him a look and then reached for the tray and shoved a _piparkökur_ in Anthony's mouth, and one in his own.  
  
"Delicious," Anthony said after he'd eaten the cookie. He patted Sören and winked. "The biscuit was good too."  
  
Sören turned beetroot again - Anthony felt like he'd achieved something - and he gave Anthony another look, but then he crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip before he started nibbling on another cookie.  
  
The next movie was _Christmas Eve On Sesame Street._ "Another Muppet movie," Sören said, smirking. "I approve."  
  
Anthony's eyes narrowed.  
  
Big Bird tried to determine how Santa Claus fit down the chimney, and Cookie Monster wrote letters to Santa asking for cookies and got himself so worked up he ate a pencil, a typewriter, and eventually an old-timey rotary telephone when he called Santa. Sören loved it, howling with laughter, and Sören's delight added to Anthony's own enjoyment. But the crowning moment was when Ernie and Bert sang "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" together - when they looked at each other as they sang " _Make the Yuletide gay_ ," Sören and Anthony both lost it. Even Elaine snickered, while Roger was deadpan.  
  
Sören got hugs from both Elaine and Roger before they left. Anthony was glad to see Roger hugging Sören, since he usually wasn't demonstrative, but when they pulled apart Anthony saw even Roger was choked up a little, which made Anthony choke up in turn.  
  
"Thank you for forgiving my son," Roger told him. "You mean the world to him, and I'm proud to have you as a son-in-law. Well... you know what I mean."  
  
"I know what you mean," Sören said, patting him. "Thank you, I appreciate that." Sören hugged him again.  
  
On the ride back from Blackheath it was snowing a little, and Elaine was playing Christmas music on the car stereo. "I forgot to ask what you gave each other for Christmas," Elaine said.  
  
"Sören gave me this new cane," Anthony said. "And I gave Sören something a bit personal."  
  
"I see," Elaine said.  
  
Sören snickered. "I wonder if there's a pineapple Muppet," Sören muttered.  
  
"What, dear?" Elaine asked.  
  
"Oh, just talking to myself."  
  
Anthony gave Sören a look, and Sören stuck his tongue out, before he booped Anthony's nose. Anthony fought back the urge to kiss him again.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Nicholas and Geir were already back by the time Sören and Anthony returned. "Where's Craig?" Sören asked.  
  
"He's back at our place," Geir said. "He has an early morning tomorrow so he's calling it an early night."  
  
"Ah, OK. He's... he's doing all right?"  
  
"Yeah, he is." Geir smirked. "Don't be such a mother hen."  
  
"You know I worry."  
  
"My word, that is a lot of food," Nicholas said, eyebrows raised at the food Sören and Anthony were carrying in.  
  
"We'll be eating good for a few days," Sören said.  
  
"Eating well," Nicholas corrected.  
  
Sören attempted a wink that was more of a clumsy blink, and Nicholas gave Sören a look like he wanted to eat _him_.  
  
Anthony took that as his cue to go upstairs to use the restroom, brush his teeth, and shower. Not wanting to expose his new cane to the steam of his shower, he used his old cane to get from the bathroom to his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, hoping there wouldn't be any awkward moments with Sören or Nicholas in the hall while he was almost naked - he was already horny enough, remembering those two kisses under the mistletoe - and when he stepped into his room he found Geir waiting on his bed, propped up on one elbow; the lights were turned down except for a small lamp, casting the room in shadows and a soft golden glow. The sheet was pulled up but Anthony knew from Geir's bare chest he was naked underneath the sheet.  
  
"Hello," Anthony said, propping his cane up by the bed. He took off the towel and neatly draped it over the arm of the chair before climbing into bed next to Geir.  
  
The door was left open a crack so Tobias could get in if he wanted to, and wouldn't wake him up in the middle of the night yowling and scratching at the door. That also meant they would have to keep it down. But for a moment they just lay there cuddling together, watching the snow fall outside.  
  
"How did it go?" Geir asked.  
  
"It went OK," Anthony said, nodding.  
  
"Just OK?"  
  
"Well..." Anthony sighed. He decided to just come right out and say it; Geir would know something was wrong, anyway. "My parents think we're back together and we didn't exactly discourage that. Though... it makes me miss him even more. And..." Anthony frowned. "I want to be happy for Ben and Pierre but that proposal hit a nerve. I know they didn't mean to. It just... made me think about... how I fucked up. I'm sure it reminded Sören, too. And I wonder if we _are_ actually going to get back together, if that wound is too deep to heal -"  
  
Geir put a finger to Anthony's lips.  
  
Geir began to stroke Anthony's cheek. "You guys _will_ get back together, you know. You love him. He loves you. You'll get there."  
  
"Do you really think so?"  
  
"I do. Just... don't fuck up again."  
  
Anthony sighed again.  
  
Then Geir traced Anthony's lips with his finger. "In the meantime... let's get your mind off those worries. I want to spoil you tonight."  
  
They kissed, and Anthony's cock rose as the kiss deepened, their tongues playing together. Anthony moaned into the kiss, and again as he felt Geir's hard cock against his, Geir taking both their cocks into his fist, stroking slowly. Anthony exhaled as Geir began kissing his neck, stroking more insistently.  
  
Anthony lay on his back as Geir kissed and licked and caressed his way down, worshiping Anthony's body. Anthony was so pent up after the steamy kisses with Sören under the mistletoe earlier that evening, but he let himself savor these moments, losing himself in the sensuality, and the lust in Geir's eyes intensified his own. He moaned as Geir started sucking his cock, slowly, languidly. He was a little self-conscious of the noise he was making, not wanting to bother Sören and Nicholas across the hall.  
  
But then he heard Sören moaning too, heard their bed creaking and rocking against the wall and knew Sören was probably getting fucked. That just made Anthony even crazier, letting out a little whimper. Geir sucked harder, faster, rubbing his tongue, and Anthony found himself grabbing Geir's hair and thrusting into his mouth. Geir groaned with his mouth full, and Anthony could tell from the motion of Geir's shoulder that he was stroking himself as he sucked. Anthony loved that. He loved it even more when he heard Sören cry out, "Oh god, just like that," answered by Nicholas's groan. The mental image of them fucking in different positions got Anthony right to that edge, and Geir looked so hot with his mouth full of cock...  
  
It didn't take much longer for Anthony to climax. He gasped, trembling, as he filled Geir's mouth. Geir made a moan of pleasure as he swallowed it down, and then he came up to kiss Anthony. Anthony groaned as he felt Geir's hard cock rubbing against his thigh, felt how slick it was with precum. "You," Geir rasped between kisses at his neck, "are so fucking sexy. Especially when you come."  
  
Anthony grabbed Geir and kissed him hard. Anthony's cock rose to life again, and Geir chuckled. Geir dove back down and Anthony wondered if Geir was going to suck him again, wondering if he should suggest a sixty-nine, but then he felt Geir's tongue inside him. "Oh _fuck._ " Anthony shuddered as Geir's tongue began to brush that magic place.  
  
Geir's tongue lashed away, fucking him, and then slowed down, lazy, teasing. When Geir's tongue sped up again, the way Sören was whimpering and Nicholas was grunting across the hall - trying to keep it down and failing - made Anthony feel almost like he could come just from Geir's tongue. But before that, Geir stopped, and took a few licks at the head of Anthony's cock, lapping up the precum. Then Geir scooted up and straddled Anthony's shoulders, his hard, dripping cock in Anthony's face.  
  
Anthony drew Geir's cock into his mouth and sucked slowly, their eyes locked, then faster. Anthony reached down and stroked himself as he sucked, enjoying Geir's cock in his mouth, enjoying the way Geir gasped and moaned, the look of pleasure on his face. The sound of Sören whining, the bed rocking across the hall, was threatening to undo him.  
  
Geir took his cock out of Anthony's mouth and reached for the lube. They kissed as Geir readied them both, and then Geir gently hooked one of Anthony's legs around his waist and pushed inside. Anthony gasped when Geir bottomed out in him, and again when Geir began to thrust and his cock hit that spot.  
  
"Oh god." Anthony shivered. "Oh fuck. Geir..."  
  
"You like that?" Geir started kissing his neck again.  
  
"God, yes..."  
  
Geir kissed the sensitive hollow between Anthony's neck and shoulder just as Sören made an urgent high-pitched noise that turned into a deeper growl, and Nicholas grunted in response, the bed across the hall creaking and rocking harder.  
  
"Oh god." Anthony's nails dug in Geir's back.  
  
Geir started thrusting harder too. "Are you gonna fuck Sören like this when you're back together? Hmm?"  
  
Anthony gasped. That thought was too delicious. He shuddered. " _Fuck_..."  
  
"Make him feel the way I'm making you feel right now?"  
  
Anthony's nails raked Geir's back. He heard himself panting, the rhythm of Geir's cock so good... the thought of making Sören feel that good driving him mad with lust.  
  
"You like listening to him getting fucked, don't you?" Geir whispered, before he nibbled at Anthony's neck. "You make yourself come listening to them..."  
  
"Oh _god_." It was true. Anthony almost sobbed, climbing to that edge as Geir thrust faster.  
  
Sören was moaning louder now, Nicholas grunting and groaning, not holding back. Anthony clung to that edge, not wanting to finish too soon, not wanting it to end, wanting to stay lost in that delicious place of lust and sensation, but those noises... Geir's kisses... Geir's cock...  
  
"He's getting close," Geir whispered. "Maybe next Christmas we can both make him come, together..."  
  
Sören gave a fierce cry, followed by a shout from Nicholas. The bed stopped rocking. Anthony heard himself cry out, undone by those sounds - the mental image of Sören and Nicholas coming. He spilled over Geir's stomach as the pleasure throbbed through him, and then Geir stopped thrusting and groaned into Anthony's shoulder, shuddering, and Anthony sighed at the feeling of Geir flowing into him.  
  
"Such a pervert," Geir said, smiling, before he gave Anthony a little kiss.  
  
Anthony chuckled. His face was burning, but Geir said it more affectionately than with judgment. Sure enough, Geir said, "So am I," his smile now a grin.  
  
"I guess we're both on the naughty list," Anthony said, kissing Geir back.  
  
"Mmmm. Maybe we should see how naughty we can get." Geir kissed Anthony harder, and Anthony groaned at the feeling of Geir rising again inside him.  
  
"Yes," Anthony said, wrapping his arms around Geir, gently rolling his hips. "I think we can get very naughty."  
  
Geir claimed his mouth again, thrusting, both of them moaning into the kiss.


	28. Fire In Winter

"All right." Karen looked across the room at Sören. "Now for the final gift."  
  
"DUN DUN DUN," Ben sang. He and Geir began to make a drum roll on their laps.  
  
Sören had been keeping the wrapped gift safe in the wardrobe, so Tobias couldn't get to it and shred his wrapping job, as Sören had found to his chagrin a couple of days before Christmas. He went upstairs now to retrieve the framed painting, and carefully carried it downstairs, having to pause every few steps since the frame was heavy. The look of excitement on Karen's face lit up Sören's own, and he kissed her forehead as he set the gift down beside her. " _Gleðileg jól, elskan mín._ " It was Boxing Day, but still a Christmas present.  
  
Karen carefully unwrapped the gift, chuckling at the wrapping paper with cartoony Christmas trees and cats. When the frame was fully unwrapped she turned it over to see the painting within, and gasped.

The painting was a full-color version of the sketch Sören had started – Karen in a walled garden on a cliff overlooking the sea, watching swan boats. Dressed in a gossamer gown, wearing shells and pearls, hair stirring in the breeze, with two swan companions. Glowing faintly.  
  
Karen teared up. She covered her mouth and Sören saw her chin tremble. Then she reached out to grab Sören, who was standing a foot away, and pulled him onto her lap, hugging him fiercely, sobbing. "It's beautiful. My god. Sören."  
  
"I tried," Sören said. "I wanted to capture your, ah... your you-ness." He made a vague hand gesture, not knowing how to describe it, before he put his arm back around her and kissed the top of her head, rubbing his nose in her hair. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Karen looked at the painting, then at Sören. "You know, it seems almost criminal that you're in medicine full-time and this is only a hobby."  
  
"Oh." Sören snorted. That was a nice compliment, but... "Being a healer is my calling."  
  
"This is a calling too." Karen looked at the painting again, the same expression of awe on her face as she bore in the painting.  
  
One at a time, the others came around to take a closer look - Ben, Pierre, Craig, Geir, Nicholas, and at last Anthony. All of them marveled at it, paying Sören compliments. He basked in the warm glow of pride, even as he heard his uncle's voice in the back of his head: _Your art is shit. It's worthless. So are you._  
  
"That should be in a gallery," Nicholas said.  
  
"My mum will say the same thing when she comes to visit and sees it," Karen said. "She works in a gallery, Sören, she could get you a show there. You'd have to come up to Sheffield, but... my parents are on me to visit more often if I won't go up there to live."  
  
Sören remembered Karen's restlessness earlier that month during their anniversary weekend, and he once again wondered if her leaving was as such a hard no as she was currently sounding about it. He decided not to dwell on that, and to focus on the more immediate. "Oh... she's coming to visit?"  
  
"Sometime next month," Karen said, nodding. "She hasn't been to London in awhile."  
  
"I think you having your work showcased in a gallery would be wonderful," Nicholas said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe. It's happened before." Sören thought bitterly of the art shows he'd had that Anthony's "friends" had ruined one way or another. Anthony gave him an apologetic little frown across the room, as if he was also thinking about that. But Sören knew that was then, this is now, and he had more support. "I don't know, I'd have to think about it. I mean, I don't do this for money. A lot of what I paint is personal." Sören gestured to the painting of Karen. "This was very personal. I'm not opposed to other people seeing it, it's just..." Sören's voice trailed off. Even though he wasn't religious at all, a skeptic if anything, it felt like he painted people's souls, or the soul/spirit of a place. It was intimate, and he felt weird about commercializing it.  
  
On a deeper level, it felt like when he painted the soul of a person or a place, it was almost like performing a healing, awakening something that had been suppressed. He thought that was bullshit, a crazy idea, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling just the same. _Surgery of the spirit._  
  
"This is going to sound insane," Geir said, staring at the painting, his voice hushed, almost reverent, "but... it's almost like I can hear music."  
  
A shiver went down Sören's spine. Another warm glow - this time of validation - but also a prickle of discomfort. He didn't want this to get _weird_. He wanted all "that woo shit" to strictly be the realm of fantasy, his imagination. He needed levity. "I might have to order you another MRI," Sören teased, and then, not able to resist he added, "Maybe a prostate exam, too."  
  
Geir chuckled and winked. "Do I get a lollipop if I'm good?"  
  
Anthony was blushing fiercely, and Sören knew Anthony was thinking about Sören and Geir going at it. Now Sören felt heat rise in his cheeks, enjoying the thought of Anthony fantasizing. _You need to wait_ , Sören scolded himself.  
  
"I... kind of feel the urge to play now," Geir said. "Though it's a bit crowded to do it in here." Geir looked out the window, where snow was softly falling. "I have an idea... the rooftop garden."  
  
"I feel utterly spoilt now," Karen said. "A painting from Sören _and_ getting to listen to you play the flute."  
  
Sören cheekily reached into his wallet for a twenty-pound note and Geir howled, shaking his head. "Not that kind of dancing, Sören," Geir said.  
  
Sören grinned as he put the bill away.  
  
Nicholas made a pot of hot chocolate and the group went up to the rooftop garden. Nicholas turned on the fairy lights and Gil did an improvised performance in the frozen garden under the full moon. It made Sören break out in gooseflesh, hair standing on end, a tight lump in his throat, tears burning in his eyes. Geir looked like a prince out of a fairy tale, playing a magic flute in a wnter wonderland under the moonlight. And it was so good to hear him play, knowing how close Geir had been to losing his career, his own calling. Every time Sören saw Geir perform, he understood why Geir had gone into that line of work. Just as Sören expressed the soul of a person or place with his paintings, Geir told a story with his flute. He put the feelings of the music into form. It was enchanting.  
  
Sören had been wanting to paint Geir for a long time now - Geir was a beautiful person inside and out, and he was even more beautiful when he danced - but he had hesitated starting a portrait, not just because of lack of time, but no setting that he could imagine Geir in, felt right, ultimately. Until now. Now it clicked in Sören's head. He needed to combine the castle ruins that he'd visited a few months ago, with a frozen garden like this, only bigger - _ice roses_ , Sören thought to himself - and Geir playing flute under the moonlight in the snow and ice, decked out like a warrior prince. As if he were preparing for battle, _summoning the Light to defeat the Dark._  
  
Sören's mouth went dry. He almost dropped his cup of cocoa. Their eyes met, Geir's blue eyes like fire. For the briefest instant Sören was _there_. It was one thing to see a vision in his mind's eye to bring to life, it was another thing for the world to fall away for a few seconds and to _be there_...  
  
 _...a time out of time._  
  
As quickly as it enfolded him, it went away, and now the song of the flute was coming to a close. Geir took a bow, and the group gave a standing ovation, even Anthony, who leaned on Sören as he applauded.  
  
"That was magnificent," Nicholas said softly.  
  
"You just... improvised that?" Ben asked, sounding impressed.  
  
Geir nodded. "I let the music guide me."  
  
"You could be a composer," Ben said, "not just a performer."  
  
"Maybe," Geir said.

They went back inside - it was starting to snow again, and the fire in the woodstove was warm. Karen was moved to tears by Geir's song, and Sören was glad he wasn't the only one. He shared his Pusheen blanket with Karen, and a box of tissues. Geir chuckled at them. "Awww, you guys," Geir said.  
  
"That was so beautiful," Karen said.  
  
Sören nodded, not able to make words.

“Shall we listen to more music?” Nicholas got up and perused his CD collection. “Perhaps the harp.” He showed off a CD with a simple yet elegant cover – a war harp on a rock by the ocean. Sören normally wasn't the biggest fan of classical - he could enjoy it when Nicholas had on classical or opera while he cooked or did other chores, and he enjoyed Geir's concert performances, but he didn't typically listen to it on his own. However, the harp was as magical as Geir's flute, if not moreso, each note glittering like the stars.

“This is magnificent,” Geir said, swooning a little. “Who is the harpist, if you don't mind me asking?”

“The harpist's name is Mark Lowry,” Nicholas said.  
  
Anthony's eyes widened and he made a little noise.  
  
"You've heard of him?" Nicholas looked surprised.  
  
"If it's who I think it is, I need a fucking drink," Anthony said.  
  
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, and departed to his liquor cabinet. He came back a few minutes later with a bottle of Hennessy and a shot glass. He poured the glass for Anthony, who accepted with a mumbled thanks.  
  
"You know him, I take it?" Geir asked.  
  
"Mark and Lowry are both common enough names, but there's probably not a lot of Mark Lowrys who play the harp and do it _that well_ ," Anthony said. He gave a bitter little laugh. "Yeah, I know him. If it's the same guy he's an ex-lover. My first, to be exact." He downed the shot of Hennessy.  
  
"I'm sorry," Nicholas said gently, putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "If I'd known, I wouldn't -"  
  
Anthony shook his head and gave Nicholas a little pat. "It's all right. You didn't know. And..." Anthony exhaled sharply. "That was part of what drew me to him. His music." Anthony gave a tight little smile at Geir.  
  
Sören ached for Anthony, remembering the pain in his eyes as he'd talked about his first lover, a friend-with-benefits who ghosted him when he wanted more. But even with the sour association of the harp music having been from someone who'd broken Anthony's heart, the music had still been exquisite - Sören could see just from the music alone how Anthony could fall for the harpist playing it - and the vision of Geir playing the flute in the frozen garden under the moonlight still _burned_ in his mind's eye.  
  
And so it was that night, after their guests had departed and Anthony and Nicholas were sound asleep across the hall from each other in their bedrooms, Sören crept downstairs, turned on his tablet, and began to sketch while the vision still burned hot and clear. Even though he had an early shift, and he knew from past experience that if he pulled an all-nighter he'd be feeling ill from exhaustion later, he couldn't shut his mind off, couldn't make himself go back to bed and rest. The muse was upon him _now_. He found himself taking Nicholas's CD, putting it in his portable player, putting in his headphones, and sketching to the sounds of Mark Lowry on the harp, immersing him back in that magical moment... transporting him to another world, almost another time.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Monday the twenty-eighth, it was Nicholas's sixty-seventh birthday. There was a family dinner at Balthazar, and afterward the little family-of-choice had gathered at Nicholas and Sören's flat. Sören had arranged for the cake, asking Karen and Geir what bakery they had used for his birthday, and asked them to make a chocolate cake with frosting roses that said "Nicholas, with an H." Sure enough, the bakery had come through:

Nicholas had tutted and facepalmed but also laughed, and gave Sören a _you're going to get it_ look that made his cock throb with anticipation.  
  
Besides the cake, there was gift-giving, though Nicholas had insisted people shouldn't be extravagant, since it was right after Christmas. Almost everyone got Nicholas books. Sören, on the other hand, got Nicholas an indoor grill, since Nicholas had expressed interest in getting one - he would barbecue on the rooftop in the summer, but in the wintertime with his arthritis he limited his trips up there. Nicholas was delighted with the grill, and Sören was once again tickled by how domestic Nicholas was. As Nicholas put the grill in the kitchen, and started to go through the fridge to make plans to break in the grill tomorrow night, Sören smiled and gave a little sigh of contentment. It was _so nice_ to have their cozy nest here, their peaceful, happy home.  
  
The grill wasn't Sören's only gift for Nicholas. After the guests had gone back home, and Geir and Anthony had retreated across the hall, Sören cornered Nicholas after he got into his usual black silk pajamas for the night.  
  
"I have something else for you," Sören said.  
  
"Do you now." Nicholas's lips quirked.  
  
"Mhm." Sören queued up the stereo in the bedroom and then he made Nicholas sit in the armchair. Nicholas's eyebrows went up as "Pony" by Ginuwine started - not something Nicholas would have chosen for himself.  
  
Sören was still dressed - he'd gotten a little dressed up for Nicholas's birthday, wearing black leather pants and a ruffly white pirate shirt with a black vest. He began to undress to the music, slowly and sensually thrusting his hips, wiggling his ass as Nicholas watched him.  
  
 _I'm just a bachelor  
I'm looking for a partner  
Someone who knows how to ride  
Without even falling off  
Gotta be compatible  
Takes me to my limits  
Girl when I break you off  
I promise that you won't want to get off_  
  
With his shirt and vest off, bare-chested, Sören came over to Nicholas and began to grind against Nicholas's lap, taking Nicholas's hands and running them over his chest. Nicholas's thumbs brushed the nipples, making him moan softly.  
  
 _If you're horny, let's do it  
Ride it, my pony  
My saddle's waiting  
Come and jump on it  
  
If you're horny, let's do it  
Ride it, my pony  
My saddle's waiting  
Come and jump on it_  
  
Sören danced more suggestively as he took his leather pants off. Nicholas facepalmed, chuckling when he saw that underneath the leather pants, Sören was wearing the hibiscus-and-pineapple bikini briefs that Anthony had given him for Christmas. Sören came back over to Nicholas in just the tropical bikini briefs, which had a hard bulge in them, and he smiled as he guided Nicholas's hand to rub the hard erection through the fabric, noticing Nicholas's pajama pants were also tented. Sören turned around and pushed his ass out at Nicholas, and Nicholas caressed, rubbed, and spanked Sören's ass.  
  
 _If we're gonna get nasty, baby  
First we'll show and tell  
Till I reach your ponytail  
Lurk all over and through you baby  
Until we reach the stream  
You'll be on my jockey team_  
  
For the end of the song, Sören took off the bikini briefs, freeing his hard cock, and as he turned around to show off his ass again, Nicholas saw it - Sören had been wearing a butt plug all evening, including at the restaurant. He was already open and ready for their evening.  
  
Nicholas gave an appreciative groan before he smacked Sören's ass. "You naughty little minx."  
  
"I thought I was a rakehell, Daddy."  
  
Nicholas slapped Sören's ass again. Sören's cock jolted and throbbed, and Sören moaned, wiggling his ass again at Nicholas, teasing them both.  
  
When the song was over, Sören turned off the stereo and climbed onto the bed, propping himself up on one elbow, lazily stroking his cock. Nicholas chuckled as he took off his pajamas and joined Sören on the bed.  
  
"That was quite a present," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören looked down at Nicholas's very hard cock, dripping precum. "I take it you didn't hate it."  
  
Nicholas chuckled again and kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "I can't believe you, in those ridiculous knickers."  
  
"You still got hard." Sören took both their cocks into his fist, stroking them together. Nicholas groaned and shivered.  
  
"You are so delicious that even something ridiculous like that doesn't take away from it," Nicholas said, before he claimed Sören's mouth with a deep, hungry kiss. He started kissing Sören's neck, and Sören moaned, his cock throbbing, his hole twitching around the plug, wanting to be filled, taken, fucked.  
  
One kiss became another, and another. Nicholas lay back against the pillows and pulled Sören atop him, their hands feverishly exploring, caressing, as their hard cocks rubbed together. In the heat and urgency of their passion, Sören almost forgot about the last gift. As Nicholas reached for the lube, Sören put a hand on his arm, remembering just in time. "There's something else I wanted to give you."  
  
Sören climbed off, and Nicholas watched as Sören opened the dresser. The gift was hidden in his sock drawer, a long, flat box. He brought it over to Nicholas and waited, feeling a little nervous - though they'd tried bondage a couple of weeks ago and both enjoyed it, this was the next level. Nicholas opened the box and found a black leather collar and matching leash - simple, elegant. He looked up at Sören, then at the contents of the box. "You... want me to put this on you?"  
  
"Only if you want to," Sören said. "It doesn't have to be all the time, if you do, just a sometimes thing for fu -"  
  
"Kneel," Nicholas said, his deep, velvet voice commanding.  
  
That one word went straight to Sören's cock. Nicholas was a natural dominant, whether he realized it or not.  
  
Sören knelt beside the bed, and Nicholas fitted the collar around his neck, then clipped the leash through the O-ring in the center of the collar. Nicholas took the leash in his hand and tugged Sören to move closer. Nicholas's hard cock was right there, dripping precum, and Sören licked his lips at it, wanting to suck. Nicholas took Sören's chin with his other hand and his thumb traced Sören's lips. "You want this?" Nicholas asked, gesturing to his cock.  
  
Sören nodded. "Yes, Daddy."  
  
"Too bad. Naughty brats like you shouldn't get what they want right away." Nicholas tugged on the leash again and patted his lap.  
  
As soon as Sören climbed onto Nicholas's lap, Nicholas pulled him over his knee. Sören moaned, and again when Nicholas began to rub Sören's ass. "You were a _naughty_ little thing with that cake," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören looked over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue, wiggling his ass playfully.  
  
"It seems that I should give you spankings for my birthday," Nicholas said.  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
With the leash wrapped around one hand, Nicholas began to spank with the other, slapping Sören's ass harder and harder. Sören rubbed his hard cock against Nicholas's thigh, moaning each time Nicholas tugged on the leash to let him know who was in charge. He felt like he was going to explode from lust and the pleasure-pain of the spanking - it was even hotter to get spanked while on the leash like this.  
  
At last Nicholas took the plug out of Sören's ass, setting it on the bedtable, and he pulled on the leash. Sören climbed onto his lap and threw his arms around Nicholas, shivering as Nicholas reached around to rub his stinging ass, soothing and teasing. "I think," Nicholas rasped, "it is time for you to ride me."  
  
Nicholas lubed up his cock and Sören sank down, moaning as Nicholas possessed him to the hilt. Sören began to ride, and Nicholas tugged on the leash when he wanted Sören to work his hips harder, faster. When Sören held on tight, bucking as hard as he could, Nicholas began to nibble and lick Sören's neck, growling. "You are delectable," Nicholas whispered.  
  
"So are you." Sören grabbed Nicholas's head and leaned in for a kiss.  
  
Then Nicholas slapped Sören's ass, tugged with the leash again, and resumed kissing, biting, licking Sören's neck. "I love this," he husked. Their eyes met. "I love you."  
  
"I wanted to give myself to you," Sören said, putting his hand over the hand that held the leash. "I'm yours."  
  
"Yes. You're mine." Nicholas bit the sweet spot between Sören's neck and shoulder, making him cry out.  
  
Sören had been trying to keep it down, but he couldn't anymore, and their flesh was slapping together. Across the hall, Sören heard Anthony moaning - he too had been trying to keep it down and was failing - and that just got Sören even hotter. He wondered what it would be like to fuck Anthony as Nicholas fucked him... to fuck Nicholas as Anthony fucked him... to ride Anthony's cock as Nicholas took Anthony. That last thought threatened to undo him. Sören's nails dug in Nicholas's shoulders and he let out a plaintive whimper. Nicholas's free hand reached down to stroke Sören's cock.  
  
"Mine," Nicholas whispered between kisses at Sören's neck. "My boy."  
  
"Yes, Daddy..."  
  
Nicholas kissed Sören's heart, and then turned to lick a nipple. "Such a lovely boy."  
  
"Oh, Daddy..."  
  
Nicholas lapped and suckled one nipple, then the other. The hand holding the leash began to play with one nipple as his mouth worked on the other, and it drove Sören wild. He climbed to that edge and stayed there, lost in sensation and surrender, until he couldn't hold back anymore.  
  
"Daddy," Sören gasped. "Pabbi..."  
  
"Yes, darling. Come for me."  
  
Their eyes met and Sören climaxed. Before he could scream, Nicholas seized Sören's mouth in a fierce, fiery kiss that intensified Sören's orgasm. Sören moaned into the kiss and Nicholas groaned, and Sören felt Nicholas shuddering against him, spending into him. They gasped for breath, panted, holding each other's hands as the pleasure pulsed and throbbed. Nicholas pulled Sören against his chest and held him, rocked him.  
  
"That's a good boy," Nicholas whispered, petting Sören's curls. "That's my good, sweet, lovely boy."  
  
Sören fell apart, shattered by his orgasm, and by the tenderness... that feeling of _belonging_ so viscerally expressed by the leash. Nicholas's arms tightened around Sören as he wept, and when Sören picked his head up he saw Nicholas was shedding a few tears, silently.  
  
"Are you OK?" Sören asked.  
  
Nicholas nodded. He gestured to the leash. "This... means more to me than I can express."  
  
Sören smiled through his tears. "No matter who else I'm with, I'm yours. I always come back to you."  
  
Nicholas took Sören's hand, kissed it, and put it to his heart. "I know," he said, and then he pulled Sören's head to his chest again. Sören rubbed his nose in the silver fur, enjoying the feel of it, the way it made him feel cozy and _safe_.  
  
Eventually Nicholas took the leash and collar off Sören. "So... you were OK with that?" Sören asked, wanting to make absolutely sure.  
  
Nicholas laughed. "More than OK. That was... most enjoyable." He smiled. "We shall have to do that again. Perhaps even once a week or so."  
  
That was better than Sören had hoped. He grinned and gave Nicholas a kiss. "I like that, Daddy." He rubbed his nose in Nicholas's beard.  
  
"Good." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. His voice was soft and husky as he said, "You really are a good boy, Sören."  
  
The words melted Sören's heart. He loved that, soothing one of his oldest hurts, being an intolerable, unforgivable ne'er-do-well in his guardians' eyes. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, my own." Nicholas nuzzled Sören's curls. "So very much."  
  
As Nicholas drifted off, Sören had a moment of reflection. There were ways Geir and Nicholas weren't alike, but there were ways in which they were very alike - their mutual appreciation of ballet and opera, their refined tastes, being sensible, the calm in the eye of the storm. If Sören hadn't known better, he would have thought Geir was Nicholas's son, though that didn't quite fit.  
  
Usually Sören felt sleepy after a powerful orgasm but now he felt energized, as if the passionate sex had lit a fire within him. As loath as he was to get out of bed, not wanting Nicholas to wake up cold and alone, he found himself getting up and getting his tablet, the urge to create coming on strong all over again. At least this time Sören didn't have to work until tomorrow afternoon, though he'd be staying at the National until late, something he couldn't help. He would miss Nicholas a lot, not getting back until Nicholas was in bed.  
  
Sören resumed work on the sketch. The sketching part of it was almost done - to most people it would indeed seem done, except Sören liked to add in as many little details as he could. Frost-covered flowers. Icicles on tree branches. Details on Geir's leather armor, jewels, the feathers of his plumed helm.  
  
A sword and shield rested against a snow-covered stone in the garden, and as Sören drew the crystals in the shield he remembered the dreams of his blue-eyed, dark-haired brother-lover - the one who felt like Nicholas, as the one with silver-gold hair had been Anthony - and now in his mind's eye he saw Nicholas, both as himself and in the body not his, bearing a sword and shield, magnificent. That would be a painting for another time.   
  
_Stop it with that woo shit._  
  
But the vision felt so real. Mark Lowry's harp music played in his head. It felt so strange, to be thinking this way.  
  
Or not even thinking. Knowing. Feeling.  
  
"Woo shit" or not, Sören was going to see this project through. It was a labor of love for Geir. As he sketched the finishing pre-painting touches, the thought occurred to him that Geir, too, might eventually be leaving - maybe Geir and Karen would go together - and just as he was trying to express Geir's soul through art, this was also giving Geir a piece of him to hold onto, almost like an amulet or talisman.  
  
It didn't make sense, but what he felt when he created rarely did. It was fire, it was madness. Medicine was his calling, but art seemed even deeper than that. So much so that Sören thought it would be the opposite of a good thing if he devoted himself to this full time.  
  
But in smaller, controlled doses, it was magic.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören had never been consumed by a project the way Geir's painting consumed him. The vision of Karen had come close, but the intensity he'd put into it was almost like child's play compared to the way he felt now, painting on his tablet when he could find a moment here and there on breaks at work, stealing away when Nicholas was asleep. By New Year's Eve, Sören was exhausted, not having slept much in the last three days, and Nicholas kept giving him stern looks throughout the evening.  
  
Nicholas was reluctant to let him stay up until midnight to welcome 2016, but Sören, Nicholas and Anthony did, ringing in the new year with a glass of champagne. Then Nicholas said, once the glass was finished, "Sören, go to bed."  
  
"Aw, come on..."  
  
Nicholas gave him a stern look. "Sören, I don't mean to be rude, but I have concerns about how your lack of rest will eventually affect your job performance."  
  
"He's right," Anthony said. "I don't want to see you start microsleeping again, especially at the wrong time."  
  
Sören sighed and grumbled, but he knew they were right - he hated that they were right, that there was no amount of caffeine that would fix the need for a full night's sleep. So after changing and brushing their teeth, he and Nicholas got into bed, and Sören's exhaustion got the better of him and he quickly fell asleep.  
  
When Sören was more exhausted than usual, it meant he tended to sleep deeper than usual... and sometimes that produced nightmares. He was woken up by the one that had been plaguing him since he was four, being ambushed by demons made of smoke and fire, being attacked, burning to death. He heard himself screaming until he sat up, heart pounding, in a cold sweat, shaking.  
  
Nicholas also sat up and put on the light. Across the hall Sören heard Anthony swearing, and the sound of Anthony limping as quickly as he could; the door banged open and Anthony stood there on his cane, looking alarmed.  
  
"Bad dream," Sören muttered. "Sorry."  
  
"It sounded like your dream was _terrible_ , not merely bad." Nicholas gave him a concerned look.  
  
Anthony looked at Nicholas and Sören, then the armchair, then back at them. "Do you mind if..."  
  
"No," Nicholas said, gesturing to the chair.  
  
Anthony sat down. The look of compassion on his face, and Nicholas's, broke the wall of composure, Sören trying to be brave and strong and not burden anyone with it; he already felt bad enough that he'd woken them both up. Sören looked down, crying. Nicholas put an arm around him, and then Anthony migrated from the chair to the bed, also pulling Sören into his arms. "Hey," Anthony said. " _Hey._ " He took Sören's chin in his hand and made Sören look into his eyes, hurting for him.  
  
"It's that stupid fucking dream again," Sören choked out. "The one I keep having, been having since I was four. Where I'm burning to death." Sören sobbed. "I hate it. It makes no fucking _sense._ When I was four, I'd never seen fire on TV, no neighbors' houses, _nothing_ that would have influenced me to have a dream like that."  
  
"My therapist would say it's symbolic," Anthony said. "Probably when you were that small you were very afraid of something, and the fire represented the fear of whatever you couldn't control. And it keeps coming back every time you're afraid of losing control."  
  
 _That_ made sense - worrying about his tiredness causing him to make a fatal error at work, losing a life, losing his job - but it also didn't, at the same time. It felt like more than just pure symbolism, the embodiment of fear. It felt as real as the dreams he'd had of being in another body, with his brother-lovers. As real as the dreams of exile into the ice and snow. As real as the dreams of burning ships, gone mad from a broken heart, nothing left to lose. It felt _connected_ , somehow. Which felt insane.  
  
It felt so real that when Sören closed his eyes he could see it, feel it again, like he was there. The smell of smoke, the too-hot flesh, trying to _fight_ yet welcoming release at the same time, broken, devastated, already dead inside. Sören wept.  
  
"It's after two in the morning," Nicholas said. "You should try to get back to sleep."  
  
"Don't wanna," Sören said, and then he realized how much he sounded like a kid throwing a tantrum. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to express his distaste for that idea as calmly as he could, despite the dream continuing to shake him to tears. "I worry about... that dream coming back, if I go back to sleep."  
  
"Oh, sweetheart." Nicholas gave him a little kiss. "Daddy's here, my love. Daddy will keep you safe."  
  
 _You couldn't save me,_ Sören thought reflexively, and that seemed even more insane. "I'm scared," Sören said in a small, defeated voice, feeling like a helpless child and hating it. _I play God every day in the operating theatre, I can't fix my own brain to stop shitting on me with dreams like this when I badly need to get some fucking sleep._  
  
"If I may..." Anthony took a deep breath. "Would it help if both of us were beside you?" He gave Nicholas an apologetic look. "I normally wouldn't ask, but -"  
  
"In this circumstance I will allow it," Nicholas said. "He needs comfort. We can both be his safety blanket tonight." Nicholas then quickly looked at Sören. "That is, if it's OK with you -"  
  
"Of course," Sören said.  
  
And so it was that Anthony climbed into bed on the other side of Sören. Sören snuggled into Nicholas's chest, with Anthony spooning him, both of them holding him. As bad as the circumstances were that created this arrangement, Sören nonetheless relished the feel of being sandwiched between them, relaxing enough to involuntarily flex his fingers and toes. After the terrible ordeal of the nightmare, feeling like he was dying, now he felt incredibly safe and cozy - indeed, it was one of the most wonderful feelings in the world to lay here like this with them, cuddled up together, and Sören felt a little ache, wishing they could do this every night. Laying between them, Sören felt _complete_.  
  
He felt safe enough to ease back into sleep, without fighting it, without being afraid of more of the same dreams. He was safe and warm. Safe and loved.  
  
  
_  
  
  
There is fire again, but this time he is not burning. The fire is in the hearth.  
  
Sören lays there in the different body, sandwiched between Nicholas and Anthony on a rug before the fire. They are all naked, holding each other, legs braided. Other-Anthony's silver-gold hair is wrapped around him like a blanket, and in the haze of afterglow, other-Nicholas's eyes are smiling.  
  
The love between him and his wife has grown cold, but his brothers are so warm. Here in their arms, the darkness he struggles with seems so far away. The fire in the hearth seems to live inside him, fueled by them, shared with them. There is light here, there is hope, there is joy.  
  
Sören thinks about it the next time he is in the forge, looking into the flames as he smiths. He thinks of that feeling of love, of joy, of hope, of peace, laying there with his brothers. He thinks of Anthony's hair, and Nicholas's eyes. He needs to express those feelings, somehow, that energy, preserve that moment for all eternity... to be able to draw on its light when the darkness comes again.  
  
He sets his hammer down and thinks about what to make. Not a statue of the three of them, nor some other type of monument. He keeps thinking of the way Anthony's hair looks in the light, the way Nicholas's eyes shine like diamonds.  
  
 _Jewels. Three jewels, one for each of us. The brightest, most brilliant jewels the world has ever seen._  
  
He has made glass before, but this will be a much more complicated undertaking. He needs to get it just right.  
  
When he has everything he needs, he gets to work. He keeps reliving that moment, pushing his strongest feeling of love into the stones... remembering that joy, that hope, that peace. The three stones glow like small suns, glorious.  
  
They are so much more than jewels. Each of them has a piece of his soul. A spark of his fire. Their light.


	29. Welcome Back

Anthony woke to a weight on his chest, the feeling of paws walking up, the sound of very loud purring, and the sensation of a cold wet nose on his, before a headbutt. Anthony smiled before he opened his eyes. He had gotten in the habit of sleeping with his door open a crack, the same as Sören and Nicholas, so Tobias wouldn't scratch at his door howling to be let in, during the night. But now, as he glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedtable, he saw that Tobias had gotten him up ten minutes before his alarm was set to go off.  
  
"Thanks," Anthony mumbled like the cat could understand him, reaching up to give Tobias rubs and pats.  
  
Tobias took that as his cue to turn around and stick his ass right in Anthony's face, no escape from the pink hole.  
  
"Dammit, cat..."  
  
Tobias gave an inquisitive " _Prrrowwrrr?_ " before he hopped down, looking over his shoulder as if to say _Well?_  
  
Anthony yawned, stretched, and turned off his alarm. He knew Nicholas wasn't awake yet, and he wondered if the cat was asking for food. He went downstairs to have coffee and breakfast, which would help wake him up, then it would be back upstairs to shower and change.  
  
As he mad his way downstairs he saw that the lights were on, and then he heard the familiar sound of horns blaring in triumph. Anthony came down from the staircase and saw Sören on the couch in his pajamas, drinking coffee, on his laptop.  
  
"Oh hey," Sören said, pausing and glancing over.  
  
Sören had worked the overnight shift, but clearly hadn't gone to bed immediately upon getting home. Anthony knew that while Sören did frequently need to crash once he got home, sometimes it took him awhile to shut his brain off, and Anthony was guessing this was one of those times.  
  
"Everything OK?" Anthony asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen."  
  
"Thank you." Anthony went to the kitchen, and he smiled when he heard a text-to-speech voice. " _Je suis un papillon._ "  
  
"You're taking French on Duolingo," Anthony observed aloud as he poured himself a bowl of cereal.  
  
"I am," Sören said. "I've already got 100 XP."  
  
" _Très bien._ " Anthony fixed his coffee, drank it, put milk in his cereal and hobbled over to the couch, bowl in one hand, cane in the other, moving a little more gingerly than usual to not spill the cereal. On his way over he glanced at Tobias's food dish and saw it was full. "The cat is starving, you know," he said sarcastically as he took a seat next to Sören.  
  
"Yeah, he likes to trick people into thinking he's starving. He still had a little food in his dish when I got in but I gave him some fresh food anyway so he wouldn't wake up you or his father." Sören gave an eyeroll as Tobias hopped onto the couch. Sören picked up the cat, put him on his lap, and began to pet; Anthony smiled at the sound of the cat's purr.  
  
"I'm pleasantly surprised you're taking French," Anthony said, waving his spoon at the laptop.  
  
Sören nodded. "I normally don't make New Year's resolutions, but I decided to make one, which is starting the French course on Duolingo. You said that I can learn at my own pace, and I have three people I can practice with, after all - Nick, Pierre, and you."  
  
Anthony nodded. " _Il me fera plaisir de vous aider._ "  
  
Sören gave him a mock stern look. "I'm not far enough along to know what you said."  
  
"I know," Anthony said. "I said it would be my pleasure to help you."  
  
Sören gave the thumbs up.  
  
" _L'homme mange du pain et boit de l'eau,_ " the text-to-voice said.  
  
Anthony snorted. "In the Norwegian course we get to eat bread while we're crying on the floor."  
  
Sören laughed at this. "Scandinavians, we know a thing or five about melancholy. We invented existentialism, after all."  
  
Anthony knew Sören had his own struggle with darkness. "My own existential crisis was prompted by a Scandinavian," he quipped, and then he felt a little twinge, hoping he didn't make Sören feel guilty or sound like he was trying to pawn off responsibility for what he'd done in 2013 onto Sören, who had been wronged.  
  
But Sören laughed again, seeming to not be offended at all, and then he gave Anthony a sympathetic look. "Well, I hope that crisis is starting to come to a close. You're going back to work today, and then..." He gestured around the flat. "You're coming home."  
  
Anthony was touched by that, the acknowledgment that he wasn't just staying with them as a guest, but Sören thought of him as part of the family, like he belonged there. And though he was still nervous about returning to work today, after almost a year, it was time. Anthony smiled.  
  
"That's why I'm up, you know," Sören said. "I wanted to see you off on your first day back to work."  
  
Anthony put down his cereal, leaned over and gave Sören a tight hug, overcome with feelings. They held each other for a moment, rocking together. Anthony tried not to cry, not wanting to go into work red-eyed, but he felt as if his heart could burst from all the emotion of knowing Sören was here for him. He'd missed Sören _so much._  
  
Then Sören gasped, abruptly pulled back, and clapped his hands. "TOBIAS!"  
  
Tobias had taken advantage of the moment and was in Anthony's cereal. Anthony knew he shouldn't laugh, but he couldn't help it, the sight of the cat eating from his cereal bowl was too funny, especially when Tobias looked up innocently with a dollop of milk on his nose.  
  
" _Rassgat_ ," Sören scolded. He picked up the cat, who meowed with protest, and sat Tobias on his lap, wagging his finger. " _Þú ert smá skítur._ "  
  
Tobias meowed as if to proclaim his innocence, and began to headbutt Sören aggressively, purring. Now Sören was laughing too, shaking his head as he gave the cat some skritches. " _Þú ert óþekkur lítill kettlingur._ "  
  
Anthony loved the sound of Sören speaking Icelandic. He resumed eating his cereal even though the cat had been eating it. "I see my first client of the day," he joked, gesturing to the cat.  
  
"He defends himself." Sören stroked the cat's chin. "Look at that fucking face. Toby could get away with murder."  
  
"He attempted that, too. He put his bumhole right in my face to wake me up."  
  
Sören snorted, shaking with laughter. "He does that. He's very good at it."  
  
Nicholas was coming downstairs now, not really looking awake yet. He waved good morning and made a noise.  
  
"Our cat was showing off his ass again," Sören informed him.  
  
"That's nice, dear," Nicholas said in a tone of voice that indicated that wasn't nice to hear first thing in the morning at all, and now Sören and Anthony laughed again. Nicholas headed to the kitchen and Anthony tried to not look at the way Nicholas's pajamas fit his body and Nicholas had a very firm, shapely ass. Anthony started to eat faster, needing to get out of there, get upstairs, face on fire, not wanting to notice Nicholas _like that._ It was bad enough that he'd masturbated thinking about them last night, wondering if Nicholas was masturbating across the hall while Sören was at work.  
  
Anthony had been filled with a sense of nervous dread about going back to the office today, even though he knew it was time, but now he needed the distraction. Badly.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Anthony's first day returning to his chambers, he met with two clients and reviewed their cases - a young drug dealer, and a woman who claimed to attack her partner in self-defense. By the time the day was over, he had that old familiar "weight of the world on my shoulders" feeling, combined with distaste for the sort of lack of conscience that would push someone to sell hard drugs if they weren't in dire straits financially. He was reminded of how much his job had been a source of stress before the accident, and coming home to Sören had been such a respite.  
  
But he was back. He was finally back. As much as his job had stressed him out before the accident, there had been a vacuum whirling itself into a black hole with that missing from his life. It was what he did, for better or worse.  
  
Diana Traynor, his executive assistant, lived in Covent Garden and had generously offered to drive him to and from work, since she lived nearby and knew he didn't drive, and likely wouldn't drive again after the accident. Anthony had been initially reluctant to accept the offer, not wanting others to pity him or have to go out of their way, but he'd finally swallowed his pride, knowing it would be less of a hassle than trying to take public transportation or a cab; he didn't live far from Lincoln's Inn, but it was too far to walk with his injury.  
  
"How do you like Covent Garden?" Diana asked on the drive home.  
  
"I like it," Anthony said. "I still miss Kingston... the riverfront, the swans... but we live in a pretty neighborhood. Sören says the cherry trees will start blossoming in spring." Then he realized he'd said "we" and mentioned Sören.  
  
Diana's face lit up. "You and Sören are back together?"  
  
 _Shit._ "More or less," Anthony said. He didn't want to explain "not yet". He tried to mention his personal life as little as possible with his co-workers, but Diana knew about Sören; Diana had been the one to say she saw him at The Raven's Roost last winter.  
  
"I'm glad. He seemed really good for you." Diana smirked. "You're easier to get along with when you're with him."  
  
Anthony snorted. "I was always nice."  
  
"Your face doesn't have the same peel-paint-off-the-walls quality." She grinned.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry if I was difficult." Anthony sighed. "Life is still not perfect..." He gestured to his cane. "But it's better."  
  
"I like that cane, you know," Diana said, glancing at the shark cane before her attention returned to the road. "It's very snappy."  
  
Anthony smiled. "I like it too. It was a Christmas present." He felt strangely more confident when he brought it to work - Sören had been exactly right, it was a reminder of who and what he was, not just to himself, but signaling to clients and opponents, he was still the same courtroom predator he was before.  
  
When Diana let him off outside the building, she said, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."  
  
"You will. Thank you again."  
  
"Have a good evening, Anthony."  
  
"You too." Anthony took a deep breath; he still really hated getting in and out of cars, feeling self-conscious about how awkward he looked climbing out of a car with the cane, but he managed.  
  
Anthony knew both Sören and Nicholas would be home - Sören had the evening off, for once, though he was paying for that by going in early tomorrow. But when Nicholas opened the door for him, Anthony heard a yell of "SURPRISE!" and saw that Karen, Geir, Craig, Pierre and Ben were all there as well.  
  
"We wanted to do something special for your return to Lincoln's Inn," Nicholas explained as Anthony walked in.  
  
"Oh!" Anthony was touched, and his face was on fire. He knew that his return was a big deal, but he hadn't been expecting a big celebration, either.  
  
"I have a reservation to Balthazar - Sören and I would like to treat you - but if you'd rather spend the evening at home I can cancel it," Nicholas said.  
  
"No, you don't have to cancel." Anthony said, feeling even more touched... fighting off the urge to hug Nicholas. _Why do you have to be so bloody attractive AND charming._ "I... Ah. _Thank_ you." Anthony looked down at his pinstripe suit. "I think I'm a bit overdressed though, so if you don't mind waiting a bit, I'll go up and change."  
  
"Not at all. I'll call a cab," Nicholas said.  
  
Anthony nodded and went upstairs - Sören followed, and Anthony didn't stop him, though he found that curious.  
  
Anthony went to the bathroom first, and after he did his business he washed his hands. When he came out, Sören was sitting on the bed in Anthony's bedroom. Sören looked nice, in black trousers and a black button-down shirt, neither too dressed up nor too dressed down. "Thought I'd help you decide what to wear," Sören said.  
  
"How very gay of you."  
  
Sören cackled, and Anthony smiled at his own joke. Sören got up and opened Anthony's wardrobe, and Anthony began to undress. Though they weren't technically back together yet and still needed to behave, Anthony didn't think there was harm in Sören seeing him in just his underwear, considering they'd both seen each other in just a towel more than a few times over the last month. Sören took out a navy blue button-down shirt and handed it over. "Here," he said. "Do you want a tie?"  
  
"No, just a blazer."  
  
Anthony went with a black blazer and black jeans. Then he saw Sören continuing to look through the wardrobe, as if he were searching for something. Before Anthony could ask what, Sören produced Anthony's barrister wig.  
  
"Hi, George!" Sören said, holding it like he sometimes held Tobias, petting the wig. "Long time no see -"  
  
"Oh my fucking _god_ , Sören." Anthony facepalmed and shook with laughter.  
  
"What's that, George?" Sören picked up the front of the wig and made it wag like it was talking; he leaned in as if to listen closely. Then he patted the wig and said, "I agree." Sören gave Anthony a stern look and he said, "George is glad you're going back to work because you haven't paid him any attention for months, and now he gets to start going out for walkies again."  
  
" _Walkies._ " Anthony had to sit down, losing it. "Sören. I swear to god..."  
  
"Yes, walkies." Then Sören made the tail of the wig wag excitedly. "Oh boy. We said 'walkies' enough times that he thinks he's going for walkies now."  
  
"Well, we're not. I'm going to dinner, not court."  
  
"Hi Going To Dinner Not Court -"  
  
Anthony threw a pillow at Sören, and it hit the wig instead, and Sören's jaw dropped. He pulled the wig against his chest and covered it with an arm, protectively. "Great, now you scared him."  
  
"It was just an accident," Anthony said, and then he realized he was trying to explain to an inanimate object. "If you put him back in the wardrobe, maybe he won't get hit when I..." Anthony picked up another pillow.  
  
"He hasn't been out in months, he's getting all worked up about going on walkies, _you just hit him_ , and you want me to put him back in the wardrobe?" Sören tsked.  
  
"Sören." Anthony facepalmed again, making noises. His face and sides hurt. He'd missed this. " _Sören._ "  
  
"I think you need to make it up to him," Sören said. He held George out and looked at the wig. "What do you think?" Sören made the wig nod.  
  
"Sören..."  
  
"He's coming with us," Sören said.  
  
"What! You can't take the wig to a restaurant -"  
  
But Sören was already marching out of his room, carrying the wig.  
  
At the restaurant, Sören brought his satchel, which wasn't unusual, and Anthony had almost forgotten about George coming along until everyone was busy looking at menus and Sören opened up the satchel and put George on the table between himself and Anthony. Nicholas looked up from his menu with his eyebrows raised and mouth open and Ben spluttered on his ice water.  
  
Nicholas's eyes widened. "What in the world..."  
  
The waiter came over to take orders for drinks, trying very hard to keep a straight face as Sören pet the wig like it was a cat, and finally the waiter asked, gesturing to the wig, "What will your friend have?"  
  
"Vodka on the rocks," Sören said, nodding.  
  
When the waiter came back a few minutes later, he had a small shot glass with ice and water in it for the wig. Nicholas shook his head, though his eyes were crinkled at the corners. "Sören, why are you like this?"  
  
"Don't ask why I'm like this. Ask why the British legal profession is like this," Sören said.  
  
"You're so worried about people gawping at your cane when you wear _that_ on your head," Ben teased.  
  
Karen smacked him with a menu.  
  
But Anthony thought that was pretty funny - and Ben was right. "Yeah I suppose when you put it that way, I shouldn't worry so much," he said.  
  
"Do you _really_ have to wear that in court?" Pierre asked, sounding incredulous.  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly. "And robes, though Sören didn't bring those. ...I hope."  
  
"Go on," Ben said, leaning back in his chair, smirking. "Let us see."  
  
"There's a rule about not wearing one's wig and robes outside the courtroom," Karen said.  
  
"Wig _and_ robes," Sören said. "He's just got the wig."  
  
Anthony snorted. "Now you sound like a lawyer."  
  
"I learned from you." Sören smiled. "Anyway, I don't think he'll get in trouble wearing George for thirty seconds to show us."  
  
"You..." Ben cracked up laughing again. "You named the wig George?"  
  
"Sören named the wig George," Anthony said.  
  
"That is seriously disturbing," Ben said.  
  
"You'll hurt his feelings," Sören said, covering the sides of the wig like he was covering ears. Then he let go and began crying, "Meow. MEOW."  
  
The utterly confused-yet-amused look on Nicholas's face made it even funnier to Anthony. "What does he want?" Anthony asked, giving in and playing along.  
  
"All these years and you haven't figured out how to understand him yet? And you speak how many languages?" Sören raised an eyebrow. Then he made George's "head" nod, meowing more insistently. "MEOW. _MEOW._ " Sören looked up at Anthony. "He wants to sit on your head."  
  
Before Anthony could protest, Sören put the wig on Anthony's head. "It's backwards," Anthony said. Sören adjusted the wig, and Ben, Pierre, Geir, and Craig were in hysterics. Karen was trying not to laugh, and failing.  
  
"That's... quite a look," Nicholas said mildly, sipping his wine.  
  
Sören patted the wig and started making purring noises. The purring made Anthony lose it, tearing up, doubling over. "Sören. _Sören._ "  
  
Sören took the wig off Anthony's head, and then put it on his own. Sören looked ridiculous with it on, and Anthony once again cursed internally that he found Sören even sexier when he was acting up like this. To make things even worse, Sören took two straws from the dispenser and fitted one up each nostril.  
  
Karen began taking photos. "The British legal system would collectively shit themselves if they could see this now."  
  
"You're acting like I haven't seen you use your wig in the lunch queue to hold a sandwich, banana, and a yogurt," Anthony said.  
  
"That's different. I'm not treating my wig like a Muppet." Then Karen realized what she said as she reached for her drink and put it down, giving in to the laughter.  
  
"You know what they say, birds of a feather." Sören took the straws out of his nose, then the wig off his head and looked at the wig, then at Anthony, then back at the wig. "Or whatever the hell this is made of."  
  
Anthony threw an arm around Sören, pulled him forward and gave him a noogie. When they pulled apart, their eyes locked, and Anthony felt that tingle through him at touching Sören, and wanting him so much... loving him the most fiercely when Sören brought laughter to his life. It took him everything he had not to grab Sören's face and kiss him right there. He knew Sören felt it too, Sören's pupils blown wide, those full lips parted slightly, looking so inviting.  
  
Today was an important milestone on the road to recovery, going back to work, but Anthony felt like he still had a long, long road ahead of him.


	30. Doggy Style

It was a snowy Friday evening in January. Karen and Craig had come for dinner, while Geir was out with Pierre, keeping him company as Ben had a late practice. After dinner, Sören was putting the finishing touches on Geir's painting - his birthday was on Monday, and Sören wanted to make a high-quality print of the painting and pick out a frame this weekend. Though he was in "the zone", he was also close enough to being done that his attention kept returning to Nicholas and Craig's chess game.  
  
"Checkmate," Nicholas said.  
  
"Shit." Craig leaned back in his chair and made an exasperated noise.  
  
"You played well," Nicholas assured him. "I was not bored."  
  
"I usually last longer than this," Craig said, shaking his head.  
  
"Well?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Is something affecting your concentration, perhaps?"  
  
"Yeah," Karen said, looking over; she and Anthony were watching a documentary. "You've been awfully quiet the last few days."  
  
"I could fix that," Sören muttered before he was able to stop himself, then covered his mouth while Craig turned red and grinned and Karen and Nicholas shook their heads, chuckling. Anthony was also bright red and looked down, biting his lip. Now Sören thought of making Anthony scream too, and tried to push that thought away.  
  
But then Craig nodded, looking a bit glum.  
  
"Out with it," Nicholas said. "You're among friends. You know you can talk to us."  
  
"It's just..." Craig took a deep breath. "Anthony went back to work recently, and Ben got his big break and is going on tour in a couple months and I feel really... useless. I don't want to live on my trust fund forever, but I don't want to return to investment banking either. People, places, and things, as they say in my program. I don't want to run into my colleagues and... some of the people who helped me down the wrong path."  
  
"That's completely understandable," Karen said. "It's also why none of us have been pushing you to go back to that."  
  
"Even if they all dropped off the face of the Earth tomorrow, though..." Craig made a face. "You all seem to have... a purpose, I guess. Found your calling. That's part of why I feel useless. I got into doing drugs because I felt empty, and... I feel like I should be doing _something_. Something to make a difference in the world."  
  
"It seems to me you were born in the wrong time," Nicholas said. "If you had been part of my parents' generation you likely would have signed up for the service, fought against Hitler."  
  
"Yeah," Craig said, nodding. "But I'm not keen on that idea now, going to the Gulf..."  
  
"No, I would imagine not," Sören said, disapproving of both the protracted war in the Gulf and the thought of losing Craig. He put down his tablet and put an arm around his younger lover. "It sounds like you need something to fight for. Or someone."  
  
Anthony nodded. "That's how I stomach my job. I remind myself that while I deal with some monsters who are absolutely reprehensible people... many of my clients aren't monsters, they're vulnerable, disenfranchised people who were failed by the system, one way or another. I use my privilege to help people without it."  
  
"That's it," Craig said, pointing. He nodded again. "I... I want to do something to make a difference." Craig looked at Nicholas. "Maybe volunteering at the shelter, where we worked on Christmas."  
  
"Maybe," Sören said, not wanting to be a naysayer, but also wanting to express concerns, feeling protective. "But a lot of people who go to the shelter are using, Craig, and I worry that if you're in that kind of environment it might be tempting to try to score drugs..."  
  
"Oh." Craig's face fell.  
  
"Not to mention that the hard-luck stories of people who stay at the shelter or visit for meals can be a lot to deal with," Nicholas said. "I was a priest for a few years and I know it was certainly difficult for me to help bear the burdens of others. I imagine it might be even more trying when one is in recovery and trying to keep oneself afloat."  
  
"Yeah." Craig looked down, frowning. "That was a bad idea."  
  
"It's not a bad idea," Sören said, patting him, not wanting him to feel stupid and get down on himself. "It's... a step in the general direction of the right idea."  
  
"Indeed," Nicholas said. He stroked his chin, looking thoughtful, then he held up his index finger. "Craig, do you like animals?"  
  
"Yes," Craig said, petting Tobias as he walked by. "That wasn't obvious?"  
  
"I know you like Tobias, but it's not hard to like the little rapscallion." Nicholas chuckled as the cat hopped onto his lap, and he began to pet the cat, smiling at the loud purr. "I was asking more in general."  
  
"I do. I had a dog when I was little. I miss him."  
  
"Perhaps you could volunteer at an animal shelter," Nicholas said. "That's a vulnerable population worth fighting for. Tobias here was a rescue - I found him on the street."  
  
The thought of Nicholas taking in a little Tobias melted Sören's heart. The mental image of Craig taking care of cats and dogs and small animals gave Sören warm fuzzies, and made Craig even more adorable to him. Sören held back from voicing his opinion, not wanting Craig to feel pressured into it, but Craig's frown became a slow smile as he considered it.  
  
"OK," Craig said. "I'll start calling around and seeing if anyplace needs a volunteer."  
  
"Excellent," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören _really_ felt the need to reassure him, knowing how secretly sensitive Craig was - also vulnerable. He took Craig's chin in his hand and looked him in the eye. "Just so you know, you're not fucking useless, OK?"  
  
"OK, but -"  
  
"No buts."  
  
Craig sighed. "It just feels like... everyone has their place in the world, everyone has it all figured out, but me."  
  
"That's not true," Karen said. Her brow furrowed.  
  
"Oh." Sören looked over at her, feeling that twinge of apprehension again. "Are you still having..."  
  
"Yeah," Karen said.  
  
"Having what?" Nicholas looked confused and concerned.  
  
Karen scowled. "After my grandmother died I've been having doubts about my career change. I thought that maybe after the holidays I wouldn't feel like this, but I still do. It's probably just a combination of grief and the winter blahs. I'm trying to make myself stick it out."  
  
Sören wasn't so sure, once again feeling that prickle of _She's going to leave._ But he didn't say it. He picked up his tablet and resumed painting with the stylus, trying to make himself focus again on his work, and not the sad thought of losing Karen.  
  
"Anyway," Karen said, "the point is, Craig, even when someone looks like they have it together, have it all figured out... they may not, really."  
  
"That's the truth," Anthony said. "Before my accident, I was still a wreck internally."  
  
"See?" Sören tousled Craig's hair. "No judgment."  
  
Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder. Then his jaw dropped as he saw what Sören was working on. "That's _amazing_."  
  
Sören zoomed out so he could see the whole thing, before zooming back in on the section he was applying color to. "I hope Geir likes it."  
  
"I don't see why he wouldn't."  
  
"Well, I still get nervous about people not liking the things I make for them." Sören touched Craig's face and looked him in the eye again. "Which proves Karen's point, in a different way."  
  
"If he doesn't like that, I'll kick his arse."  
  
Sören snickered and tousled Craig's hair again, finding that reaction adorable and hilarious. He kissed the tip of Craig's nose. "You're a good fit for working at an animal shelter. You're my very own attack dog." He booped Craig's nose. "More of an attack puppy."  
  
Craig wasn't even offended by that - the way his eyes lit up when Sören called him a puppy, and he kissed Sören's cheek, let Sören know he liked that a little more than he might let on to others. Sören made a mental note of that information; it might come in useful at a future date.  
  
  
_  
  
It came time for Geir's twenty-sixth birthday on Monday the eighteenth. Anthony had taken a half-day at work to spend time with Geir in the afternoon; Sören had the evening free and would be spending the night with Geir. The group once again assembled for dinner at Balthazar, and Sören observed as Anthony sat gingerly that Geir's birthday was probably off to a good start, his observation further confirmed by the big shit-eating grin Geir had on his face as too sat down.  
  
Sören had opted to give Geir his gift privately. Though Craig had raved about the painting in progress, and Nicholas had also given compliments when he went with Sören to get the print made on Saturday, Sören still felt a little nervous about it. He didn't want Geir to feel obligated to compliment it because other people were around, if Geir didn't like it. Sören knew he was probably being paranoid - Sören liked the painting a lot, himself - but he still felt even more anxious about it than he had with Karen's painting.  
  
He kept ruminating on the impending gift, and his anxiety, as dinner went on. But at last Geir looked at Craig and said, "You seem happy, and I know it isn't just because it's my birthday. Did you have a good first day at work at the animal shelter?"  
  
"I did," Craig said, nodding.  
  
Ben's eyebrows went up. "Oh... you. You got a job at an animal shelter?"  
  
"I was going to wait a few days to tell you," Craig said, looking a little apologetic. "Make sure it was working out."  
  
"The shelters are so chronically short of help that you'd have to really mess up in a serious way for them to fire you," Karen said, and then she made a face, realizing how that sounded.  
  
"Yeah. Exactly." Craig looked down.  
  
Sören ached for him. He'd been trying over the last almost-year to help build Craig up, but he knew he could only do so much. He knew from his own direct personal experience that confidence was hard - even with so many who appreciated his art, he still heard his aunt and uncle criticizing it in his head. He also knew he couldn't be everything to Craig; Craig needed support from other people as well.  
  
"Look." Ben met his eyes. "I know I've said some harsh things -"  
  
"Which I deserved," Craig said.  
  
"OK, _but._ " Ben waved his fork. "It's obvious, and I speak for all of us here, that you're trying. And you _are_ doing better. You doing something like working at an animal shelter is a huge step. You're not a fuckup, just someone who made some mistakes."  
  
Craig swallowed hard, looking on the verge of tears. Sören, too, felt a tight lump in his throat, the ache in his chest. Of everyone present, Craig needed to hear that from Ben the most, and Sören knew Ben wouldn't just say something like that to make Craig feel better; Ben _meant_ it.  
  
Ben put down his utensils then and reached over to give Craig a hug, who was sitting next to him, with Pierre on the other side. They hugged each other tight, and then Pierre got up to hug them both. Nicholas gave a round of applause, and Geir stood up, clapping harder.  
  
"Now _that's_ a birthday present," Geir said when he sat down. "You guys taking another step in repairing your friendship. And you," Geir said to Craig, "having a good first day at the shelter."  
  
Craig nodded. "I liked it more than I thought I would. Of course, I want to take everyone home with me."  
  
"Our flat would become a veritable menagerie," Karen said.  
  
"Well, it already kind of is," Geir said, snickering.  
  
"No, the word you're looking for is _ménage à trois_ ," Karen said with a naughty look at Sören, who grinned into his drink. It had been awhile since he'd had a threesome with Karen and Geir, and he wondered if that was on the menu for later.  
  
"That's technically three words," Pierre quipped.  
  
Anthony snorted and Nicholas smiled, raising his glass to Pierre.  
  
There was cake and hot cocoa back at Nicholas and Sören's flat - though Geir watched his diet, he was allowing himself a little indulgence on his birthday. Sören had once again used the same bakery that had made his own birthday cake, and Nicholas's, and this time the cake, chocolate with chocolate frosting and small white chocolate stars, said "Happy Birthday Gayer".

  
  


Once the cake was unboxed and revealed, Geir laughed so hard he couldn't cut the cake, letting Nicholas do the honors.  
  
"You shan't use that bakery anymore," Nicholas told Sören, pausing before he cut the cake.  
  
"Shall," Sören said, and stuck his tongue out.  
  
"Do none of you sing 'Happy Birthday' first?" Craig asked. "The last couple of birthdays, there was no singing."  
  
Sören took out the wooden kazoo and began to play "Happy Birthday" on the kazoo. Then Pierre sang, more seriously, in French:  
  
 _Joyeux anniversaire  
Joyeux anniversaire  
Joyeux anniversaire Geir  
Joyeux anniversaire_  
  
"I love French," Geir said, swooning a little. "Even the simple 'Happy Birthday' song sounds sexy in French."  
  
"Everything sounds sexy in French," Sören said. "That's why I'm taking it. Though... I'm still really basic. Stuff like _Où est mon livre?_ and _Je mange une pomme._ "  
  
"You're only two weeks into the course," Anthony said.  
  
"Still." Sören frowned. He wanted to absorb everything now, and of course he couldn't.  
  
"It'll feel less slow and frustrating if you practice, put French in action," Pierre said.  
  
Sören nodded. "Sometimes though when I'm available, the French speakers I know aren't. Or vice versa."  
  
"Well..." Pierre thought for a moment. "There's other ways to do immersion. You could watch a TV show in French and try to follow along. A kids' show in French would probably be the right level."  
  
Sören was tickled. He also couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Anthony. "I wonder if there's a French version of _Sesame Street._ With French Muppets."  
  
"Har har," Anthony said, but his eyes were smiling.  
  
After the little get-together, Sören stopped upstairs to get his overnight bag and the wrapped painting, kept safe in the wardrobe. He kissed Nicholas goodnight on his way out, and headed over with Karen, Geir, and Craig.  
  
Though Karen and Craig wheedled him in the lift, wanting to see the framed painting, Sören insisted the reveal was for Geir's eyes only and they could see it later.  
  
Karen smirked. "Is it one of _those_ paintings?" She was of course talking about the paintings Sören had done of himself and Anthony making love.  
  
"No." Sören snorted, though the idea of painting him and Geir that way sent a little frisson of arousal through him.  
  
"It's magnificent," Craig said, his voice soft.  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören patted him, and thought to himself that he might like to paint Craig too, sometime. Of course, it would be better for Craig to display such a work once he had his own place, instead of staying on Karen and Geir's couch...  
  
Sören and Geir went right to Geir's room, and Sören's heart beat a little faster as Geir began to unwrap the painting. When it was fully unwrapped, Geir took a long moment to just look at the painting in its frame. Geir was wearing leather armor and a royal blue cloak with a jeweled clasp, a helm with blue and blue-black plumes, and he was clean-shaven and his hair was long with little braids here and there, braided with jewels and flowers. He was playing the flute in the night, under a star-filled, full moon sky, in castle ruins that the wild had reclaimed, and it was winter, with icicles on the trees, frost covering bushes and flowers. A jeweled shield and ornate sword lay against a frozen fountain.  
  
As Geir studied the painting he looked haunted, and Sören found himself barely able to breathe. But before Sören could ask him what he thought, Geir turned to Sören, pupils blown wide, and then he grabbed Sören and kissed him hard.  
  
He kissed Sören again and again. He reached to begin pulling off Sören's sweater. "I want you _now_ ," Geir rasped, and he started kissing Sören's neck.  
  
Sören moaned and trembled, his neck exquisitely sensitive. His sweater came off, and Geir's hands ran over Sören's bare chest, thumbs teasing the pierced nipples to life. Geir kissed down to a hard nipple and as he suckled it, he undid Sören's jeans.  
  
When they were both naked on the bed, laying in each other's arms, rubbing their hard cocks together, Sören finally asked him, "I take it you... you like the painting?"  
  
"I love it." Geir's blue eyes blazed with passion. "You..." He kissed Sören again, fiercely. "I have no words. Only feelings."  
  
"I'm not complaining." Sören grinned and kissed him back. He was relieved Geir liked it - and delighted by Geir's reaction.  
  
Geir put his hand on Sören's heart and he kissed and licked down Sören's neck, to kiss his heart, rest his head there for a moment. The tender gesture was worth a thousand words and it made Sören tear up, touched deeply. But before he could start to cry, Geir smiled and began lapping at a nipple, before sucking it hard, and Sören moaned, his cock jolting against Geir's. Geir nuzzled and kissed Sören's heart again before turning to lap and suckle the other nipple. Geir's hand reached down to stroke their cocks together.  
  
Geir rolled Sören onto his back and went back and forth between Sören's nipples, knowing how that drove him wild. Sören bucked, writhed, moaning, clutching at Geir's head, begging "Please. Oh god. Please, fuck me..."  
  
But Geir loved to tease him, and instead of giving in right away, Geir sucked Sören's cock slowly, while slick fingers played inside him. Every now and again Geir took Sören's cock out of his mouth to lick it, and tug the ring in the head gently with his teeth. When Geir started sucking just the head, and his hand cupped and rubbed Sören's balls, Sören made a high-pitched, urgent noise. He opened his mouth to beg again and couldn't even make words, just a little shuddery gasp.  
  
Geir relented, kissing and licking his way up Sören's stomach, chest, nipples, and neck, to claim his mouth with deep, hungry kisses as he poured lube over his cock and Sören stroked it, working it in. Geir looked deep into his eyes as he pushed inside, and Sören's breath caught, his grip tightening on Geir's hips. When Geir was all the way inside, they kissed, and Geir touched Sören's face.  
  
"You see inside me," Geir husked. "And now I want to feel inside you." He put his hand on Sören's heart before kissing him again.  
  
Geir went slowly at first, teasing them both. They kissed and kissed, and their hands wandered, exploring, pleasuring, worshiping. When Geir lowered his head to start kissing Sören's nipples again he began to thrust faster, harder, and Sören rocked his hips back at Geir, matching his rhythm. This was a dance too, primal, primordial. The rhythm of their hearts... the rhythm of the heat, rising between them. They had touched each other's souls, and now they were fused together in body, losing themselves, one flesh, one need. Sören heard himself almost sobbing as Geir kissed his neck, knowing just how to please him.  
  
And then Geir gave him a wicked grin and whispered, "This cock was inside Anthony, earlier."  
  
"Oh _god._ " Sören shivered at the delicious mental image of Geir fucking Anthony in this position, on this bed.  
  
"It's like he can be inside you this way..."  
  
" _Fuck!_ " Sören's nails dug into Geir's back and he bucked against Geir, urging him on faster, harder.  
  
Geir chuckled and nibbled on Sören's neck. He took a lick and rasped, "I told him I would tell you that. Then I told him for my birthday next year I want a threesome with both of you, want to watch you fuck each other..."  
  
Sören whimpered. He was so close now, ready to come at the thought of that, how much he _wanted_.  
  
"...And he came when I told him that. He came so hard, making a mess all over me..."  
  
Sören lost it, giving into his own climax, crying out as his seed sprayed Geir's chest and stomach. Geir laughed softly and then three thrusts later his laughter became a groan as he spent into Sören, trembling. They kissed as the pleasure throbbed through them; Sören's arms tightened around Geir and they rocked together.  
  
Now Sören laughed too. "That was fucking evil."  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
Sören snickered, gave him a playful swat, and kissed the tip of Geir's nose. Geir tweaked Sören's nose before he touched Sören's cheek, his eyes loving and kind. "I love seeing you come undone," Geir husked. "It's as beautiful as anything you paint." Then Geir looked down at the mess Sören made on his chest and laughed. "Well, I suppose you _did_ paint just now..."  
  
Sören laughed too. They kissed and rubbed noses, laughing together.  
  
Then Sören gave Geir a naughty look, his finger straying to tease one of Geir's nipples. "If I make a mess, I should clean it."  
  
"Mhm."  
  
Geir's breath hitched as Sören began to lick the cum from his chest and stomach. Sören's cock rose again, tasting his seed on Geir's flesh... the way Geir trembled and moaned as his tongue lapped. Soon Geir was hard again too and they kissed, cocks rubbing together.  
  
"What does the birthday boy want?" Sören asked, kissing Geir's neck.  
  
"I love to see you come... but I love to hear you beg just as much." With that, Geir got up, winked at Sören, and went over to the bedroom door, opening it and whistling for Karen. Karen walked in wearing a beige silk nightgown that hugged her curves all the right places and left nothing to the imagination, and the silk pooled to the floor as Geir produced two lengths of rope from his bedtable drawer. Sören moaned as Geir began to tie his wrists, and moaned again once he was tied and Karen and Geir took turns kissing him.  
  
When Karen and Geir sucked his nipples at the same time, Sören cried out, cock throbbing. He whimpered, writhing against the restraints, the sensation almost too delicious to bear. "Oh god. Oh god, please..."  
  
Geir laughed softly and licked around and around the swollen, aching nub before his tongue lashed it, and he drew the nipple back into his mouth, eyes full of mischief as they watched Sören panting and gasping.  
  
"Fuck..." Sören let out a high-pitched noise that became a deeper, hungry growl.  
  
"We don't want to disturb Craig now." With that, Karen took her fingers - slick with her own juices - and stuck them in Sören's mouth before she resumed suckling his nipple.  
  
Sören cried out around the fingers in his mouth, loving it. It was Geir's birthday, but he felt like he was the one getting a present.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Thursday, Sören got home before Anthony. It was snowing again, and even though Anthony got a ride from Diana, Sören still thought he'd appreciate hot cocoa when he got in. Sure enough, Anthony did. His cheeks were rosy enough from the cold that Sören felt compelled to share his blanket as well, so they huddled together under the warm woolen Icelandic blanket that Craig had given him. Anthony's pink cheeks brought out the green in his eyes, and the coziness of sharing the blanket - almost-cuddling - made Sören want to kiss him. He badly needed a distraction, so he got on his laptop for the day's Duolingo lesson.  
  
Anthony followed suit, taking out his cell phone and working on his own Duolingo lesson. When they were finished, Sören asked, " _Est tu un homme?_ "  
  
" _Oui, je suis un homme._ " Anthony gestured to Tobias. " _Est-ce un chat?_ "  
  
" _Oui, c'est un chat._ " Sören laughed, feeling self-conscious at how banal the conversation was with his very basic French skills. "AS YOU KNOW..."  
  
"As you know."  
  
"I... know I should practice with people who speak French, but this is ridiculous," Sören said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe you should wait awhile till you've progressed more in the course and have more conversational skills. Though Pierre's suggestion of watching something in French is pretty sound."  
  
Sören opened up a tab for YouTube and typed in "french childrens show". The search showed clips from something called _Téléfrançais_. Sören clicked on it and went full-screen so Anthony could also watch.  
  
There was a French pineapple puppet calling out, " _Je suis un ananas!_ " Sören and Anthony looked at each other and lost it.  
  
"It's a pineapple Muppet," Sören said.  
  
"Shut it." But Anthony was laughing.  
  
They laughed harder when the kids interacting with the pineapple kept insisting it was impossible for the pineapple to talk, and yet the pineapple kept talking. It got even more ridiculous when a plane landed right outside the boy's yard and a creepy-looking puppet pilot came in. Then there was a band called the Skeletones made of puppet skeletons, playing cheesy 80s music, and the two kids were dancing awkwardly.  
  
Nicholas and Craig walked in as the kids were dancing to the Skeletones, and the look Nicholas gave them made Sören and Anthony even more hysterical.  
  
"So this is what you get up to in secret," Nicholas said.  
  
The pineapple came back as Nicholas and Craig began putting groceries away. "What is it with you guys and pineapples?" Craig asked.  
  
Sören and Anthony watched another episode as Nicholas and Craig continued putting groceries away, and then started dinner together. They kept laughing at the pineapple puppet, and when the clip was over, Sören quietly opened up the pineapple bucket sitting on the coffee table, pulled out two peppermints, and handed one to Anthony.  
  
"I hope you don't mind that Craig is coming for dinner," Nicholas said. "I stopped at the store on the way home from work and Craig was in the deli section looking at prepared foods since Karen is coming home later than usual tonight, so I invited him to have dinner with us."  
  
"I don't mind at all," Sören said, and Anthony shook his head. On the contrary, he was happy to see Craig, and happier still that Nicholas was being so welcoming.  
  
When dinner was in the oven and simmering on the stove - Nicholas was making ratatouille with homemade French onion soup, good on a chilly night like this - Nicholas and Craig joined them in the living room. Tobias went to visit Craig first, then Nicholas, and as Tobias purred away on Nicholas's lap, Sören asked, "How was work?"  
  
"I have no complaints today. I enjoy giving lectures."  
  
The look on Craig's face - the unvoiced _I bet_ \- made Sören smirk. Anthony tried to keep his expression neutral but his eyes laughed. Before one of them could make a snarky comment, Sören turned to Craig. "And you? How are things going at the shelter?"  
  
"Good," Craig said, but he looked a little sad.  
  
"Are you sure?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah." Craig put down his tea and sighed. "There's a dog I'm getting attached to. A collie-setter mix. I... I really want to adopt her. But... it's not fair to Karen and Geir to bring her in when we're already so tight on space, and even if they didn't mind, their lease says no dogs."  
  
Sören felt bad for him; he knew having an animal companion made life better in so many ways.  
  
Then Craig went on. "That also got me thinking, though. I've been staying with Karen and Geir for nine months, give or take. I have enough money from selling my flat in Canary Wharf to buy a new one." He quickly reassured Sören, "It'll be in central London. I'm not going far. But I think once I go back to Karen and Geir's tonight I'm... going to start looking for a place. One where I can have a dog. It's time for me to move out on my own."  
  
Sören felt a tight lump in his throat. He was proud of Craig. A little nervous - he would no longer have Karen and Geir keeping an eye on him and that meant he could fall back into old behaviors - but it had also been close to a year, and Craig had more of a support network in place than he had following his first overdose.  
  
Sören got up, went over to Craig, and hugged him. Nicholas got up and hugged them both.  
  
"Yes, don't go too far," Sören said. "You still need to visit us."  
  
"I might come over a few times a week." Craig grinned. "Get out of cooking."  
  
Sören snickered and tousled Craig's hair. Craig smiled and gave him a little kiss.  
  
 _Please, let this work out._ Sören wasn't a praying man, but he needed Craig to be OK. _It's time for him to leave the nest, but this time, let him fly._  
  
  
_  
  
  
On February first, Craig moved into a small flat in Bloomsbury, about a fifteen-minute walk from Sören and Nicholas's place, and Karen and Geir's. On Tuesday the second, Sören had arranged to spend the night with Craig, packing an overnight bag in the morning that he kept in his locker at work, and he went directly from the National to Craig's place - Craig was driving again, since his building had a small parking lot, and Craig picked him up in a red Porsche.  
  
"Swanky," Sören remarked as he got in the car.  
  
"I know it's a bit of a splurge but..." Craig shrugged. "I felt like celebrating, a little."  
  
"You have a lot to celebrate." Sören smiled at him. "Anyway, I'm not going to judge. If I drove, and money wasn't an issue, I'd want a neon green Citroën."  
  
Craig started laughing. "That's so flamboyant."  
  
"It's funny because I'm a T-shirt and jeans guy, but... it's a cool car, OK?" Sören leaned back in his seat and watched the snow fall.  
  
"Do you want to stop somewhere and get takeaway to bring back?"  
  
"Sure. Anything in mind?"  
  
They agreed upon Indian food, getting chicken tandoori skewers with rice. The smell was heavenly and Sören was tempted to start eating in the car, but he didn't. Then as they pulled in, Craig chuckled. "I hope Kylie isn't going to go mad."  
  
"Kylie?"  
  
"Someone who wants to meet you." Craig gave Sören a cryptic smile.  
  
Sören knew Craig didn't have a roommate - his flat was a one-bedroom - and he doubted Craig had a girlfriend, or they would have talked about it first. Reading between the lines, Sören wondered if Craig had adopted the dog he'd mentioned getting attached to. That suspicion was confirmed when they got in Craig's flat and a beautiful black-and-white collie-setter mix came bounding over.  
  
Sören quickly washed his hands - force of habit from his work as a surgeon - and then he came back to the door to fuss over Kylie. "Ohhhhh, what a good girl." Sören stooped down to give the dog pettings, and laughed when the dog licked his face.  
  
"She's a love," Craig said. "I couldn't take it anymore, I had to adopt her."  
  
"I don't blame you." Sören kicked off his boots, pulled off his outerwear, and Kylie followed him to the couch. Kylie stood on her front paws on Sören's lap, happy to get more pettings and give more kisses. "God, she's adorable."  
  
Craig brought the food over. Kylie begged and Craig gave her a stern look. "I fed you not that long ago," he said like she understood him. "You have food in your dish."  
  
Kylie whined.  
  
To her credit, Kylie didn't attempt to steal the food, but lay on the floor within sight of the couch, watching them eat with a pathetically sad look on her face. When their meal was done, Craig gave in and got a box of dog treats out of the cupboard. Kylie crunched happily as Craig and Sören cuddled together, drinking tea.  
  
"She's so cute." Sören smiled at the dog. "I love those floppy little ears. And she's so fluffy." Sören laughed then as he realized. "She's like a female dog version of Toby."  
  
"Oh my god, you're right." Craig laughed too. "Wait till Nicholas meets her."  
  
Sören frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I don't want to ask you to leave her home when you come to visit, but -"  
  
"Well, she's actually good with cats. I know this because the shelter manager told me her previous owner, who died, had two cats. One of the neighbors took the cats but couldn't take her. Kylie was the only dog at the shelter allowed into the cat corral. They liked to sleep on her, it's the cutest thing."  
  
Sören squeaked. The mental image of Tobias and Kylie snuggling made him melt. Then Sören felt a wistful ache, wishing that he, Craig, Anthony and Nicholas could all live together somehow, but of course his and Nicholas's flat wasn't big enough for that. And Craig needed independence for at least awhile, before he lived with someone again. _It's a nice dream, though._ Sören sighed.  
  
"I know Tobias is skittish," Craig said, "so maybe one night you could bring him over in the cat carrier and if he freaks out..."  
  
Sören nodded. "We can try it."  
  
"I want a couple cats too, eventually," Craig said. "But... one thing at a time. Right now..." He looked at Kylie, smiling adoringly. "This is enough responsibility."  
  
"It's a big responsibility."  
  
"It is. The people in my recovery group who own pets said that... it's also good insurance. It's harder to give into temptation to use, when it happens, when you've got a little life depending on you." Craig frowned. "Not that it stops people with small children..."  
  
"Jæja, it didn't stop my aunt and uncle from drinking." Sören also frowned. He didn't want to get bitter right now, so he returned his focus to Craig. "But... you're trying. They didn't try." Sören gestured around at the flat, and the dog. "I'm very proud of you."  
  
"There's something else. I thought I would tell you first, before I tell the others."  
  
Sören braced himself, wondering if Craig was interested in someone else. He knew he couldn't expect monogamy from Craig, they had an open relationship, though Craig wasn't seeing anyone else to his knowledge. The thought still bothered him, which made Sören feel irritated with himself, not wanting to be jealous and possessive. It was one thing to share Craig with someone else in their chosen family, if Craig wanted that. Outsiders... Sören felt a flare of protectiveness, remembering when Craig told him about having been raped early in 2015, before the overdose. _Mine._  
  
Craig met Sören's eyes and said, "Volunteering at the animal shelter got me thinking about... what I'm going to do with my life. Like I said a few weeks ago, I don't want to return to investment banking, but I don't want to live on my trust fund forever. I _could_ , but... I need to _do_ something."  
  
"I get it," Sören said. If he couldn't perform surgery anymore, he would feel like a piece of his soul was cut out. He certainly didn't think someone was useless if they didn't work, especially if they had some sort of disability - and Craig did have PTSD, Sören knew that - but nonetheless, he sympathized with Craig's restlessness.  
  
"I've decided I'm going back to school in the spring," Craig said. "I'm going to start training to become a veterinary nurse. It'll take about two years of school, and I'll be continuing to work at the shelter while I'm in school. Then, I'll probably work at the animal hospital the shelter uses."  
  
"Oh, Craig." Sören was both relieved it wasn't someone else - much as he hated feeling that way - and even more proud of him. He hugged Craig tight, feeling that ache in his chest.  
  
"So..." Craig swallowed hard. "You think that's an OK idea? You support me?"  
  
Sören nodded. But then he felt a little prickle of concern, and he spoke it truthfully. "The only thing I would caution you about is... I worry about how dealing with sick animals is going to affect you. The first time I lost a patient, it really fucked me up, and I've only lost a few since then and it doesn't really get easier. And... you're going to have access to medicine when you're working as a veterinary nurse. Pain medication, and the sort of drugs that some people do recreationally, like... ketamine. That could potentially be a bad combination -"  
  
"I've thought about that," Craig said. "Actually, I started thinking about going to school for this a few days after I started working at the shelter, and that's been factoring into my decision, is if I can handle dealing with sick animals and the occasional..." Craig couldn't make himself say it. "And do that with easy access to drugs that can be abused. But... not all of your patients die, right? Some of them, a lot of them, get better. I might not be able to save all of the animals I treat, but I can help save a lot of them and..." Craig made a vague hand gesture. "Helping them get better... I think I need that. And as far as the drugs, it's easier access but it's also easier to get busted, because the hospital will notice shortages and put two and two together with who's depleting the supplies."  
  
"You have some points," Sören said, "and I'm glad you've been thinking about it. And so long as you're thinking about it and weighing the risks, I support you. Honestly, it'll be nice to have someone else I can talk shop with about medical stuff."  
  
"Thank you." Craig gave him a little kiss. "I'm relieved you don't think it's a horrible idea."  
  
"No," Sören said honestly. "And... feeling like you have a purpose, like you're making a difference somehow... that will also help with another reason not to use."  
  
"Exactly." Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder, and Sören began to pet his hair.  
  
"I'm proud of you," Sören said again. "I am so, so proud of you." He kissed Craig's forehead and then he took Craig's face and kissed his mouth - gently at first, then more deeply, wanting to express that pride. His love. "My good boy."  
  
Sören knew Craig loved being called that - just like Sören did - and Craig kissed him back, hard and hungry. One kiss became another, and another, and Sören lay back on the couch, pulling Craig atop him, kissing and caressing each other, hard cocks rubbing through Sören's scrub pants and Craig's jeans. When Sören began to unbutton Craig's shirt, kissing and nibbling at the exposed skin, Craig gave a little whine and ground out, "Bed. Now."  
  
Sören laughed and swatted Craig's bottom. "You think you're in charge?"  
  
Craig whined again and kissed Sören fiercely, grinding against him. When they pulled apart, breathing harder, Sören gave him a gentle push and sat up. Craig got up from the couch and grabbed Sören's hands to pull him up, and Sören remembered just in time. "I have something to give you first," Sören said.  
  
"What, a spanking?"  
  
Sören shook his head, chuckling. "It's in my bag."  
  
Craig grabbed Sören's overnight bag and brought it over. He sat on the couch and watched as Sören took out a long, flat white box.  
  
Inside was a black leather collar and leash - the same as what Sören had, that he wore for Nicholas sometimes. Sören had picked up another set a few days ago as a way of celebrating Craig's milestone.  
  
"For Kylie?" Craig looked confused.  
  
"No. For you."  
  
Craig's mouth opened, and then his face lit up. He got on his knees without needing to be told, and Sören fit the collar around Craig's neck, then clipped the leash through the ring in the collar. Sören's cock throbbed, and he wondered if Nicholas felt like this when he put the collar and leash on Sören. That thought aroused him even more.  
  
Sören got up and gently pulled Craig to his feet. He led Craig on the leash to the bedroom.  
  
They undressed quickly, and Sören led Craig on the leash to the bed. Sören sat on the edge of the bed and once again Craig knelt, sucking Sören's cock, slowly at first, then harder and faster, really getting into it. Sören savored Craig's hunger and enthusiasm as much as he savored the pleasure of Craig's mouth. After a few minutes Craig took Sören's cock out of his mouth and licked it in long, teasing strokes, up and down the shaft. "I love doing this to you," he whispered before he licked around and around the head.  
  
"Mmmmm, you're certainly good at it," Sören said.  
  
Craig took the cock back in his mouth and as he resumed sucking, Sören noticed Craig's shoulder and arm moving. Craig began to moan with his mouth full. "Are you touching yourself?" Sören asked.  
  
Craig nodded. "Mmmmmhmmmm," he said with his mouth full, and narrowed his eyes, giving Sören a naughty look.  
  
Sören loved that, but of course, he had to play the game. "I didn't tell you that you could touch yourself, brat," he said, pulling out of Craig's mouth. "If you're so needy for it, you can get fucked like an animal in heat. Get like a dog for me."  
  
Craig obediently climbed onto the bed and got on his hands and knees. Sören moaned at the sight of the plug in Craig's ass, and his cock throbbed as he thought about Craig wearing that all day, in anticipation of their night together. He was so turned on that he temporarily forgot what he was doing.  
  
"Lube's next to the bed," Craig said. A bottle of lubricant was sitting on top of the nightstand.  
  
Sören thought about not giving in right away, teasing Craig with his tongue first, but his cock felt ready to explode. He knelt behind Craig, removed the plug, and replaced the plug with slick fingers. The leash was wrapped around his other hand, and that hand spanked Craig now as he began to fuck himself on Sören's fingers.  
  
"So wanton," Sören rasped. "You've been aching for this all day, haven't you?"  
  
"God, yes." Craig gave a little whimper, gripping the pillows tighter. "Please, fuck me..."  
  
Sören smacked Craig's ass again, and then he poured lube over his cock, readying himself. He pushed inside, and Craig's hips pushed out at him as Craig panted "yes, yes, take it..."  
  
When Sören was all the way in, it was all he could do to not come right then. He steeled himself, and showed no mercy, pounding away, one hand pulling on the leash, the other yanking on Craig's hair. Craig rocked his hips back at Sören, moaning and whimpering; the sound of their flesh slapping together was almost as loud as Craig's cries. Sören grunted, giving in to his animal side, the beast in him. Craig's silken heat, and the way he surrendered like this, was intoxicating.  
  
"You like being on the leash like this?"  
  
"God, _yes_..." Craig gave a little whine. "I love belonging to you."  
  
"Mmmmm." Sören shivered. "You're mine."  
  
" _Fuck_..." Craig gripped the pillows tighter, white-knuckled.  
  
"My good boy." Sören let go of Craig's hair and slapped his ass. "My good puppy."  
  
"Oh, _fuck!_ " Craig screamed into the pillows and rocked his hips back at Sören, fast and furious. "Oh god. Fuck me..."  
  
"Yeah, you like that, don't you? My puppy likes that?"  
  
"Fuuuuuuck..."  
  
Sören leaned down, and pulled Craig up against him. Sören tugged harder on the leash and with his free hand he reached around and began to play with Craig's cock. Then, he wrapped his other arm around Craig and tilted Craig's face so they could kiss. Craig was almost sobbing as he got closer. Finally Sören couldn't take it anymore, losing himself in the wild fucking and those sweet, hot kisses as he felt Craig quivering, knowing Craig was right there, and he was there too, desperate for release. "Come for me," Sören growled.  
  
Craig let out a wordless cry as he spurted over Sören's hand, falling over. Sören groaned at the feel of Craig's channel gripping and pulsing, and Sören let out a cry of his own as he erupted, sinking down onto Craig's back as the pleasure soared.  
  
Sören rubbed his nose in Craig's hair, and they held each other's hands. Craig sighed. "You're warm," he said.  
  
They snuggled like that for a little while and then Sören slipped out of Craig, rolled onto his side and pulled Craig close. Tender, sweet little kisses became longer, deeper, and their cocks were hard again. Sören lay on his back and gestured for Craig to climb atop him. "I want you to ride me."  
  
Craig straddled Sören's hips and sank down onto his cock; the sound of Craig sighing as Sören bottomed out inside him made Sören shiver. Craig began to ride, slowly, and Sören played with the leash, hands sliding over Craig's body, admiring him. "You look so fucking hot like this," Sören whispered, enjoying the sight of his cock gliding in and out of Craig, the way Craig's hips rolled, the look of ecstasy on Craig's face as he worked his hips. The sight of Craig on the leash, submissive and yielding. Sören pulled on the leash and Craig leaned down. They kissed, and Craig started to ride harder, moaning. Sören smacked Craig's ass and bit his lip before he kissed Craig again. And again. Their tongues played together between kisses, and then Sören kissed him again, deeper, wanting to possess him fully.  
  
Sören began kissing and licking Craig's neck, savoring the sound of his breathy moans. He licked and sucked at one nipple, then the other. He went back and forth between them, thumb rolling and rubbing one as his mouth worked on the other. "Lovely," Sören said, looking at the swollen, glistening peaks before his lips latched onto one again. Craig cried out and bounced even harder, grabbing Sören's head.  
  
They were kissing again, and then Craig came down to kiss Sören's nipples as he rode. Craig moaned as he suckled, and Sören groaned, loving it. Craig played with the nipple rings, and Sören reached up to play with Craig's nipples too, rubbing them. He thought about what Craig would look like with his nipples pierced, and that mental image got him even hotter. He grabbed Craig's hips and began to pound into him, making Craig buck, riding him hard. "Oh god, yes, _fuck_ me," Craig cried out.  
  
Soon they were both on that edge, panting, shaking. Craig stroked his cock, which made Sören even crazier with lust, slamming into him even harder. "That's it, puppy," Sören ground out. "Play with it."  
  
"Fuck..." Craig shuddered. "I'm so close. You're gonna make me come..."  
  
"Mmmmmm." Their eyes met. Sören reached out to cover Craig's hand with his. "Wanna see you come for me, puppy. Want my good boy to come all over me..."  
  
A moment later Craig screamed as he shot all over Sören. Two thrusts later and Sören came with a fierce cry. They gasped together as Craig collapsed on top of Sören, trembling, and they moaned together as they kissed deeply. Sören wrapped his arms around Craig and rained kisses over his face before claiming his mouth again.  
  
Craig gave a little sigh and smiled as he rested his head on Sören's shoulder. Sören smiled back, petting him. "Such a good boy," Sören said. He kissed the tip of Craig's nose, making him giggle.  
  
Sören knew they would probably go for another one to two rounds later, before they fell asleep, but for now they lay there, cuddling, basking in that peaceful, easy post-orgasmic glow. "I love you," Craig said, and his eyes confirmed those words.  
  
Sören kissed his forehead. "I love you too."  
  
"And I love this." Craig played with the ring on his collar. "I... I've had fantasies about you putting me on a leash, like this. I thought about buying a collar and leash and asking you to -"  
  
"Oh, wow." Sören was impressed, and relieved that Craig liked it as much as he did. "Well... I'm glad you like it."  
  
"It makes me feel like I belong to you." Craig nuzzled Sören's beard. "It feels good."  
  
Sören kissed the tip of his nose again, feeling too choked up to say anything in response.  
  
Craig went on, "I... I kind of wish I could. You know. Wear a collar all the time, a reminder that I'm yours, but... that's probably not appropriate for work or school."  
  
"No. A girl could get away with wearing something like a choker, but on a guy it stands out more. Which is stupid, clothing and jewelry shouldn't be thought of as for girls or for boys, people should just wear what they want." Sören thought about how hard his trans sister had to work to pass as female, and had told him once she was afraid of wearing jeans in public in case people who knew she was trans saw her and decided she "wasn't trans enough" because she was wearing pants instead of ultra-feminine clothing. His heart ached every time he thought of his sister, another trans murder statistic. He realized that losing her contributed to why he was so protective of the people he loved, even when he knew he was being irrational.  
  
"Yeah." Craig nodded. "I'd wear a collar all day if I could. Well... if you wanted to."  
  
"I would," Sören admitted. He felt kind of bad that Craig couldn't wear a collar all the time, when that sort of tangible symbolism of what they were to each other was comforting to Craig. Sören stroked his beard, thinking of something that could be a more discrete substitute, and then he thought of how much Craig loved having his nipples played with and it came to him. "How do you feel about getting your nipples pierced?"  
  
"It hurts, doesn't it?"  
  
"It does, but honestly I thought getting my ears pierced was worse. My first earrings were done with a piercing gun back in the nineties. Hurt like a motherfucker. Anyway, it hurts but it doesn't take extremely long and once it heals up in about six weeks, well... let's just say the pleasure more than makes up for the pain." Sören always had sensitive nipples, and they were even more deliciously sensitive after he got them pierced. "Plus, you'd look fucking _hot_ with nipple rings. I mean, you're hot anyway, but..."  
  
Craig considered the idea and then he nodded. "I like that idea. Will you take me to get them pierced? Will you hold my hand?"  
  
"I will. I'll have to check my schedule, but I'd be happy to go with you." Sören gave him a little kiss. "I'll tell them to be good to my boy."  
  
Craig smiled and he snuggled closer to Sören. "Yeah, I think I _really_ like that idea. It feels so slutty and naughty, to have nipple rings under my clothing while I'm out and about in the world."  
  
"Mmmmmmm." Sören stroked Craig's face. "I like that you like that idea."  
  
They kissed again, and then Kylie came in the bedroom. Sören pulled the sheets up around them and Kylie hopped on the bed, cuddling next to them. Sören once again wished there was some way to have Nicholas, Anthony and Craig with him all the time. But there wasn't right now, so he held onto what he had, watching Craig smile as he stroked the dog. Hoping their happiness would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French pineapple puppet is real.  
> 
> 
>   
> 


	31. Thirty-Six

It was February third, the day before Anthony's birthday. Instead of Diana bringing him home from Lincoln's Inn, Anthony was allowing his mother to pick him up, since his mother and father wanted to take him out to dinner, rather than attending the party being held for him by his family-of-choice on the day of his birthday ("I know I smother you enough and it's not cool for your mum and dad to be there with your friends," Elaine said). Elaine and Roger were both in the car when he got in, and Anthony's awkward discomfort with getting in and out of vehicles quickly melted into laughter when he saw his father was wearing a hat with ear flaps and down trimming.  
  
Roger gave him a mock stern look in the rearview mirror.  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony said, though he wasn't really. "I can't help it..."  
  
"It's very cold this winter," Roger said. "I wanted a warmer hat."  
  
"It's certainly... warmer."  
  
His parents took him out for Chinese food, and though Roger took the hat off in the restaurant, Anthony's mind kept playing mental images of how Roger looked in the hat and he tried very hard not to laugh, not wanting to make a scene in the restaurant though it wasn't particularly crowded on a snowy Wednesday early evening.  
  
Anthony took home some extra shrimp and egg rolls for Sören and Nicholas, and a container of hot-and-sour soup for Sören to take to work. Sören and Nicholas had said Elaine and Roger could come in for tea, so after Elaine parked at the curb, they went upstairs with Anthony.  
  
Sören's face was deadpan when he greeted Elaine and Roger at the door, but his eyes were full of mischief, and when Roger's back was turned, taking off his outerwear, Sören shot Anthony an amused look and Anthony tried not to lose it again at his father's hat. It didn't help that the offense to his dignity had made Roger even more serious than usual, and the combination of the ridiculous hat with his father's very stern face was hilarious to Anthony.  
  
As Roger and Elaine made small talk with Sören and Nicholas, drinking their tea, suddenly Nicholas's face registered alarm, and Anthony's eyebrows shot up. Nicholas rose from his seat and bellowed, "TOBIAS!"  
  
Anthony turned his head and saw Tobias successfully pull Elaine's scarf down from the coatrack by the door... and Roger's hat with it. Tobias then took the end of one of the earflaps in his mouth and began dragging it around the living room and kitchen, trotting like it was a prize. Anthony watched as Tobias let go of the hat in the kitchen, got into position, and pounced on the hat, meowing like he was killing it.  
  
Roger and Nicholas pinched the bridge of their noses in unison. Elaine shook with silent laughter; Sören's laughter was less silent.  
  
"I do apologize," Nicholas said. "My cat is a rapscallion. He gets into all sorts of mischief."  
  
Elaine nodded. "I miss having a cat. I haven't had one since Mister Mistoffelees passed on about six years ago."  
  
"Ah, one of the Jellicle Cats." Nicholas smiled approvingly.  
  
"Yes. There's a picture in a photo album back at home of Anthony at one years old, I took him to the West End opening of _Cats_ in 1981."  
  
"Mum," Anthony said, hoping his mother wasn't going to bring baby pictures next time she came for tea.  
  
Elaine smirked and changed the subject slightly. "I got Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer in 1984, and Bustopher in 1985. Mister Mistoffelees in 1989. He passed on at the age of twenty."  
  
"They were great cats," Anthony said, feeling wistful. "Bustopher lived to be twenty-two."  
  
"Rumpleteazer lived to be seventeen, and Mungojerrie died a year later." Elaine gave a sad smile. "When Mister Mistoffelees died, I was gutted. Bustopher was very much Anthony's cat, and Mister Mistoffelees was my constant companion. Losing him was like losing a child, almost."  
  
Nicholas nodded solemnly. Anthony felt that tight ache in his chest again, remembering how bloody awful 2007 had been... and that had been before losing his cat. 2014 and the first half of 2015 made that year seem like a walk in the park.  
  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't mean to be so sad on your birthday," Elaine said, patting Anthony.  
  
"My, ah... friend, Craig... works at an animal shelter," Sören said. "If you're interested in adopting another cat, maybe we could go down there sometime."  
  
"Maybe," Elaine said, nodding. "I would hate to adopt a cat and have something happen to either one or both of us."  
  
"I'd take the cat if..." Anthony's voice trailed off, not wanting to think about his parents dying.  
  
Sören shifted uncomfortably in his seat - Elaine and Roger were the same age as Nicholas, and Anthony knew Sören didn't like to think about Nicholas's mortality. Anthony didn't either; he had become very fond of Nicholas.  
  
But, Nicholas was in very good shape for his age - Anthony had accidentally seen Nicholas leaving the bathroom in just a towel following a shower and the sight of Nicholas's trim, silver-pelted body had made him rock-hard - and now Nicholas seemed a bit irritated by the subject. "One's sixties are not what they used to be," Nicholas said, giving a stern look over his cup before he took a sip of tea. "I walk every day and practice tai chi, and gardening is good exercise. I try to eat well."  
  
Sören smirked and Anthony knew immediately where Sören's mind went at the words _eat well_. Nicholas glanced at Sören then off to the side, trying to keep a straight face, his cheeks turning pink. Anthony tried not to laugh too, not wanting an awkward moment with his parents. He was grateful for the laugh, lightening the mood from the talk of the cats who were gone but never forgotten. Then he was less grateful when his mind helpfully supplied the mental image of Nicholas with his mouth full of Sören's cock... Nicholas tonguing Sören's ass. A fantasy of the three of them sucking and rimming each other...  
  
 _Stop that._  
  
"True," Elaine said. "And my mother, bless her, lived to a ripe old age. Nonetheless... this is the age when we have to start thinking about these things - we hope to live long, but must be practical and account for the possibility that we might not." Elaine looked at Tobias, who was still "killing" Roger's hat in the kitchen. "I must say, seeing him in action makes it tempting to get a cat."  
  
Roger snorted.  
  
"I'm very sorry," Nicholas said, though Anthony got the sense he was about as sorry as Sören was, who was snickering again as he watched Tobias's conquest. "If he destroys the hat, I'd be happy to replace it."  
  
"It's all right," Roger said. "If my wife gets another cat, I'm sure he'll be killing hats too."  
  
Tobias finally stopped "killing" the hat, picked up the end in his mouth again, and began dragging the hat into the living room, going right to Sören. He dropped the hat off at Sören's feet with a "Prrrp?"  
  
"Oh, what a good boy, bringing me a present!" Sören cooed, stroking the cat. "That's a good Toby."  
  
"Don't encourage _Tobias_ ," Nicholas scolded.  
  
"He'd do it anyway," Sören shot back. "Right, Toby?" He resumed petting the cat. Tobias nudged the hat at him as if to say "Well?" Chuckling, Sören gave in and picked up the hat from the floor. But instead of giving it to Roger, Sören looked at the golden pineapple bucket on the coffee table... and put the hat on the pineapple.  
  
That was when Anthony noticed it - there was a pair of big googly eyes on the pineapple. Anthony almost spat his tea. "When..."  
  
"Today when I got home from work," Sören said, grinning proudly.  
  
"That's... a very unique decoration," Elaine said, trying to be polite about it.  
  
"It was a gag gift for my birthday," Sören said. "I decided to make it even more horrible." He took a picture of the ear flap hat on the pineapple before taking the hat off the pineapple and handing it to Roger, then he removed the lid from the bucket, to show the wrapped peppermint swirl candies inside. "Mint?"  
  
Mints were handed out, and then Tobias put his front paws on the coffee table and stuck his face in the pineapple. Sören picked him up - Tobias meowed with protest - and Sören handed the cat to Anthony before he put the lid back on the pineapple. Anthony started laughing again at the ridiculousness of the googly eyes on the pineapple.  
  
And he sighed. Sören's antics just made him love Sören even more... made him long for Sören even more. The wait was getting to be almost unbearable, and they still had months to go.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On the morning of his birthday, as Diana was driving them to Lincoln's Inn, Anthony got a text from Sören.  
  
 _Tell Diana not to drive you back home today, we're coming to pick you up._  
  
Anthony was curious, wondering what they had planned, but he was distracted by a day in court. Though court was always stressful, it was also the sort of adrenaline rush he thrived on, especially when, on days like today, he was defending assault in self-defense; he'd been back to work for a month now and was feeling less self-conscious about his handicap in the courtroom. Crown Prosecution still broke a sweat when they saw him, especially today - his archnemesis Cory Paulson noticeably muttered "shit" when he saw who he was facing. Anthony smiled and gave a little "Disney Princess" wave with his free hand.  
  
He was in a good mood when he got out. It looked like his client was going to walk. Days like today reminded him of why he'd gone into law.  
  
Anthony's eyebrows raised when he saw a red Porsche pull up, driven by Craig, with Sören waving. Anthony got in.  
  
"Happy birthday," Craig said.  
  
"Thank you. You too." Anthony facepalmed, realizing what he'd just said.  
  
Craig chuckled and Sören patted him. "It's OK," Sören said.  
  
"Sorry, court ate my brain." Anthony's face was on fire.  
  
"I'll tell George to stop doing that. You need some braincells left."  
  
Craig was driving in the opposite direction of home. "Where are we going?" Anthony asked.  
  
"You'll see," Craig said.  
  
Anthony had opted to order pizza for his birthday and relax at home, after a day in court, so he knew they weren't going to a restaurant; he wondered if they were shopping. But then his curiosity was finally answered when Craig pulled into the parking lot of the animal shelter where he worked.  
  
"I saw how sad you looked yesterday when your mum was talking about the cats," Sören said. "I talked to Nick and even though you're still staying with us and don't have your own place yet..."  
  
"I'm getting a cat?" Anthony felt a tingle of giddy excitement.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Anthony would have jumped around if he was capable of it. He tried to maintain composure - _you're thirty-six, not six_ \- but he couldn't help grinning as they walked into the shelter. Craig led them right over to the cat corral, a large area shared by about a dozen cats, no cages, just beds and cat furniture and toys, with a few settings for food and water. Craig pulled up a stool so Anthony could sit and watch the cats. Just watching the cats was delightful to him, they were all so cute and he would have taken them all if he could.  
  
But then one came up to him, a grey spotted-tabby with gold eyes and a pink nose, tail high in the air. Anthony let the cat sniff him and then the cat began rubbing against him, and finally hopped up on Anthony for pettings. After a few strokes the cat climbed onto Anthony's chest and Anthony hugged the cat, smiling at the purr.  
  
"He likes you," Craig said.  
  
"Yeah, I think this is the one."  
  
The cat climbed onto Anthony's shoulder and draped himself, kneading and purring, as if to say yes. Anthony chuckled, giving the cat more pettings. He smiled at the cat headbutted him and started grooming his hair.  
  
"His name is Oliver," Craig said. "He's approximately seven years old."  
  
"That won't do," Anthony said, and then at the stern look he was given by both Craig and Sören, Anthony explained, "The name, I mean, not the cat. Oliver was... an ex." That had been the trainwreck that was 2007. "So I'd need to change the name. Otherwise..."  
  
"He's up on his shots," Craig said. "A vet comes in regularly. He's been neutered. You just need to pay a deposit and..."  
  
Anthony nodded. "And think of a name." Anthony looked at Sören. "Help?"  
  
"Oh god, I'm terrible with names," Sören said. "This is why I don't have kids. I'd have, like, seven sons all named the same fucking thing."  
  
A little frisson went through Anthony, remembering their dreams of "before", and other-Sören having, in fact, seven sons. He said nothing of that here, though - it was a little too weird to mention in front of Craig, and the other people working and visiting the shelter right then.  
  
Then Sören grinned, and Anthony knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Ananas."  
  
" _No._ "  
  
Sören stroked his chin, mischief in his eyes, and Anthony knew what Sören was going to say, again. "Leðurblökumaðurinn."  
  
Anthony chuckled, heart warming at the fond memory of when he and Sören were together, joking about the Icelandic name for Batman. "No, something I can pronounce." Anthony's eyes narrowed. "So nothing Icelandic."  
  
"What about your own background, then? You're part Scottish on your mum's side?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "So maybe a Scottish name then. What do you think?" The cat headbutted his face. "Hamish?" The cat began to climb down, stuck his ass in Anthony's face, and farted.  
  
Sören and Craig smelled it from a couple of feet away, and cracked up laughing between retch noises and making faces. "I don't think he likes that name very much," Sören said.  
  
The cat settled back into Anthony's arms, cuddling his chest, purring with a smug grin on his face. Anthony skritched the cat, despite the assault on his nostrils. "OK, not Hamish." He nuzzled the top of the cat's head. "Seumas?"  
  
The cat headbutted him again, purring harder.  
  
"OK, your name is Seumas."  
  
The cat climbed back onto Anthony's shoulder, and this time went behind Anthony's neck, laying across both shoulders, kneading aggressively. Anthony tried to get the cat to get down so he could get up, but Seumas parked himself there; Anthony rose on his cane, thinking maybe the cat would jump down, but the cat just stayed there, and rode on Anthony's shoulders all the way to the desk. "Since this is your birthday present from me and Nick, I'm paying for the deposit and stuff," Sören said, taking out his wallet, and he did just that; Sören also bought a cat carrier.  
  
Seumas cried once he was put in the cat carrier, and Anthony felt bad, letting the cat carrier sit on his lap on the way home. He stuck his finger through one of the airholes in the cat carrier to give Seumas little touches of reassurance. Seumas yowled harder.  
  
"Maybe put on some music," Sören said. "Toby likes music when I'm doing chores."  
  
Anthony chuckled, remembering Sören blasting reggaeton and dancing around as he vacuumed and dusted. "Since when did you get into reggaeton, anyway?"  
  
"The surgeon who replaced Colin is from the Dominican Republic. She started playing that when we operate."  
  
Craig put on a music channel that played a mix of Latin music styles - mostly salsa and reggaeton. "I Need To Know" by Marc Anthony came on; Anthony cringed a little remembering the summer of 1999, his heartbreak after Mark left. But he couldn't stay angsty for long - Seumas continued to meow throughout the song and instead of the actual chorus of " _I need to know | I need to know | tell me babygirl | cos I need to know_ ," Sören started singing "Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow, meow-meow-meow-meow-meow, meow meow, meow meow meow." Towards the end of the song, Craig and Anthony joined in with the "meow meow meow meow" chorus. Seumas quieted down until the end of the song, when he let out a louder, more insistent meow.  
  
The real challenge came, however, once they were at the flat. Tobias smelled an intruder and began to growl. "We discussed a protocol for this," Nicholas said to Sören.  
  
Sören nodded and turned to Anthony. "Seumas has to stay in your room for a couple days. Nick got it ready when he came home from UCL this afternoon. Seumas needs to get his scent on something, like a towel, which we'll introduce to Toby and let him get acclimated, and we'll give something with Toby's smell on it to Seumas. Then we'll swap food bowls so they associate each other's scent with something they like, food. If in two or three days they seem to have chilled out, Seumas can have free reign of the house."  
  
"OK." Anthony felt a little bad about Seumas being cooped up in his room for a few days, but the room wasn't tiny, either, and Seumas would be getting a lot of love.  
  
Nicholas wanted to meet the cat, so he followed Anthony upstairs, taking the cat carrier for him as Anthony ambled with his cane. In Anthony's room, Nicholas let the cat out of the carrier on Anthony's bed, and when Seumas crawled out and cautiously began to sniff around, Nicholas offered his hand. "Hello," Nicholas said in a gentle, fatherly tone of voice. "Hello there." Nicholas looked at Anthony. "He's a very handsome cat."  
  
"He climbed on me at the shelter." Anthony smiled as Seumas came over to him for pettings. "That was a good sign."  
  
"And you named him Seumas?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "Sören suggested something from my background." He decided to spare Nicholas the details of the cat farting at the name Hamish.  
  
There was a long pause as Nicholas took in that information, nodding. Then Nicholas said, "I've talked about possibly visiting Scotland sometime, taking Sören with me, of course. Perhaps you could join us for that trip."  
  
That invitation - the acceptance behind it - was worth more than anything Nicholas could have bought him for his birthday. Anthony found himself hugging Nicholas, overcome with emotion, and immediately regretting it, his body thrilling to the feel of Nicholas's slim but powerful, agile body against his, the strong arms around him, the sexy scent of his cologne. _Oh fuck, I want him too._ Anthony felt like kicking himself. It was one thing to be so hung up on Sören, still, when it would be months before they could officially get back together, assuming Sören even still thought it was a good idea. It was another thing to have a crush on Nicholas. He knew, as they hugged, that he'd been attracted to Nicholas for awhile, but here and now, with Nicholas so close to him, the living shield wall of his embrace, it was undeniable.  
  
 _Fuck. Stop that shit._  
  
But he couldn't. And when they pulled apart, Anthony's face was on fire, and there was a softness in Nicholas's dark eyes that made Anthony want to grab Nicholas and kiss him. _No. Do not._ Anthony restrained himself, fists clenching, hating himself for _wanting_ them both, wanting to be their third, wanting a life with them that he knew he could not have. _Just because he's gay doesn't mean he's interested in_ you. _He's had plenty of opportunity to share Sören's other partners and he hasn't, he doesn't._  
  
Anthony swallowed hard and Nicholas patted his shoulder. "I'll ring for the pizza. You wanted sausage?"  
  
 _Yeah, I want sausage, all right._ "And mushroom?"  
  
Nicholas nodded as he stepped out. "Very good. Come when you're ready."  
  
Anthony would have died laughing if he didn't want to crawl under his bed and die. _Believe me, I'm ready to come._  
  
It was just Anthony and Seumas in the room now and Anthony began to change into something more comfortable. Seumas sniffed around the room. Anthony noticed that Nicholas had put in a covered catbox with a mat, a food dish and a water fountain, and there was a scratching post in the corner. Seumas went over to the scratching post and rubbed up on it before he began to scratch. When Anthony sat on the bed, Seumas joined him, purring.  
  
"I hope you like it here," Anthony said. "I do." _Too fucking bloody much._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Besides Sören, Nicholas, and Craig, they were also joined by Karen, Geir, Ben, and Pierre. It was a cozy evening of watching movies and eating pizza. Sören had once again bought a cake - using a different bakery at Nicholas's insistence - but Anthony was still expecting the cake to say something snarky, like "Happy Birthday Anthony Muppet-Johnson". There were no shenanigans with the writing on the cake this time.  
  
The shenanigans were with the cake itself. Sören had gotten a cake that looked like the French pineapple puppet... and the cake was piña colada. Anthony had to sit down when he saw the cake, laughing too hard. The cake was delicious, but disturbing. Hilariously disturbing.  
  
"Why are you like this?" Nicholas asked as they started eating the cake.  
  
Sören gave him an innocent face that wasn't innocent at all. "Hey, I didn't come up with that creepy pineapple puppet back in the 80s, OK?"  
  
"No, you just decided to get a cake of it."  
  
"I'm probably not the first person who's ordered a cake of that," Sören said. "It's like Rule 34 except with cake instead of porn."  
  
"Rule... 34?" Nicholas looked confused.  
  
"If it exists, there is porn of it," Sören said.  
  
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would hope nobody would..." He couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
"I saw Veggie Tales porn once," Sören said. "You'd be surprised what people -"  
  
"Why were you looking at Veggie Tales porn, Sören?" Ben asked.  
  
"My cousin Ari and I have an ongoing challenge to find the end of the Internet," Sören said. "We sometimes e-mail each other links with the weirdest shit we can find."  
  
"He sounds like someone I should meet," Ben said.  
  
Sören nodded. "Yeah, I think you'd like him. Course, that means his ass needs to come to London, and that's easier said than done with his job. Like many Icelanders he's self-employed, so if he takes time off work, he doesn't get paid." Sören looked down at his cake and sighed. "I feel bad for not having seen him in so long. I should start thinking about... visiting there sometime. Maybe this summer. That means I should start planning, well... soon, because Iceland gets a lot of tourists in summer and the closer it gets to summertime, the more expensive it is to book tickets and hotels and stuff, better to get that squared away now while it's still winter and a few months out."  
  
Anthony knew it was a huge deal Sören was even saying that, considering his aversion to the idea just a few years ago. Anthony put a hand on Sören's hand for a moment, offering his support.  
  
Geir was going home with Karen but would come back later that evening to spend the night with Anthony. After Geir, Karen, Craig, Ben, and Pierre left, Nicholas went upstairs to take a shower. Anthony desperately needed a distraction from thinking about Nicholas in the shower, and he hadn't done his Duolingo lesson yet today, so he worked on that. Today's lesson in the Norwegian course involved a lot of discussion about cake and other desserts, which made Anthony want another piece of cake. After Sören finished his French lesson he cut them more pieces of cake. Tobias started begging again - he'd begged while they had pizza, and now he was even more insistent, as if he felt slighted by the presence of another cat in the house and this was his demand for appeasement.  
  
"No, you can't have cake," Sören said.  
  
Tobias hopped up and attempted to lick the frosting. Anthony put the cat down on the floor and a minute later Tobias was back.  
  
"OK, I have an idea," Sören said. "You want to eat this up in the rooftop garden?"  
  
It was a perfect end to a wonderful birthday - or it would be, until Geir came back to take care of him. Sören and Anthony sat in the frozen garden lit up by fairy lights, drinking hot cocoa, eating cake, looking up at the waning crescent moon, huddled together, almost-cuddling under a Pusheen blanket.  
  
"Thank you for Seumas," Anthony said.  
  
"You're welcome." Sören smirked. "I hope he and Toby don't kill each other."  
  
Anthony chuckled.  
  
Then they saw a shooting star. "Make a wish," Sören said.  
  
Anthony didn't really believe in that, but he closed his eyes and made a wish anyway. The first thing that came to his mind was _I wish the three of us could live together for the rest of our lives, as a family._ Anthony's cheeks burned - he didn't want to feel that way. Loving Sören was complicated enough.  
  
And when he opened his eyes, Sören's warm brown eyes were the first thing he saw, and that longing overcame him. Sören reached out to touch his face, smooth his hair, and then they were moving closer...  
  
...closer.  
  
Their lips met, and parted. Their tongues swirled, rubbed, teased. Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him with all the feeling he'd been holding back, kissed him like Sören was the air he needed to breathe. Sören put his hands on Anthony's hands, his touch so warm, tingling.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing harder. A stray curl was in Sören's eyes and Anthony brushed it away. Then he pulled back some more, feeling like he'd crossed a line. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't -"  
  
"We both shouldn't have," Sören said, "but we did." Sören looked down. "We still need to wait."  
  
"Yeah. I know." Anthony hated it, but he knew it was still too soon.  
  
"And Anthony... we can't keep..."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony remembered the two kisses under the mistletoe at his parents' house on Christmas Eve.  
  
"If we keep stepping out of bounds, I'm going to have to ask you to move out," Sören said. "I mean, you're going to do that eventually..."  
  
Anthony swallowed hard, feeling like his heart was being torn out of his chest.  
  
"But what I mean is, before the year is up. I know waiting is hard." Sören smirked, and Anthony knew he was trying to lighten the heavy mood. "I know that's not the only thing that's hard."  
  
Anthony chuckled despite himself.  
  
"But..." Sören sighed. "We still need time to keep repairing that trust. We -"  
  
"I know." Anthony sighed too. He really didn't want a lecture, even though he knew he'd royally fucked up in 2013 and he understood Sören's reasoning for the time table.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören said.  
  
"So am I."  
  
There was an awkward silence as they finished their cake and cocoa. There was an awkward silence as they came down from the garden back to the flat. Then, as Anthony put his dishes in the sink, Sören gave him a tight hug. "I still love you," Sören said. "I just... need time. We need to do this right."  
  
"I understand." Anthony patted him.  
  
But the heart wanted what it wanted... and Anthony's body wanted what it wanted. That kiss set fire through Anthony's veins and by the time Geir let himself into Anthony's bedroom, Anthony was already hard and dripping precum, needy for release. Geir started sucking him right away, and even though it made Anthony feel guilty to think of someone else, he couldn't help but fantasize that it was Sören sucking him. Fantasizing about Sören and Nicholas, both pleasuring him, and him pleasuring them.  
  
It had been a happy birthday, and much better than the one last year, but he still felt that sorrow, aching for Sören. And as he and Geir lay there after a few rounds of lovemaking and Geir fell asleep, Anthony silently wept.


	32. One Year Of Love

"Aloha. Welcome to Hawaii!"  
  
Sören smiled as the airport greeter put a hibiscus lei around his neck, and Nicholas's. " _Mahalo,_ " Nicholas replied.  
  
Sören's smile became a grin. Nicholas had succumbed to the Duolingo bug and he had started taking the Hawaiian course in anticipation of their trip, even though people in Hawaii spoke English. Nicholas also said it was good to learn new things at his age.  
  
It had been a very long journey - their flight from Heathrow to LAX had been eleven hours, they'd had a twelve-hour overnight layover in Los Angeles during which time they'd visited the Walk of Fame in Hollywood before checking into their hotel, and then it was six hours from Los Angeles to Honolulu. Before the flight Sören had seen his doctor to get a PRN for flying anxiety - though he'd flown over the open ocean from Reykjavik to London in 2010, it had been a much shorter flight. Once they were flying over the Pacific, Sören needed to take one of the Xanax he was prescribed and it knocked him out. Nicholas had woken him up when they could see Hawaii from the air, and it was worth waking up for - Sören took pictures from the window of the green tropical islands in the ocean, under perfect blue skies.  
  
It was close to two-thirty PM local time on February thirteenth, so they had time to check into their hotel and unwind a little before dinner, where Nicholas had already booked a restaurant reservation; there was enough room for a nap before dinner, but Sören was starting to feel a little more alert, and knew he'd wake up some more after coffee.  
  
After claiming their baggage, a driver was waiting to take them to a car rental. Once they got in the car, Nicholas said, "I'll text the kids to let them know we arrived safely." He meant Geir and Karen; Sören smiled again at Nicholas calling them "the kids".  
  
Sören texted Anthony first. _Aloha!_  
  
Sören did the math - Honolulu was ten hours behind London and it was after midnight there. Anthony had said to text when they arrived regardless of what time it was, but Sören still felt a twinge of guilt, even though he knew with it being late Saturday night in London, there was a chance Anthony was still awake. Sören also texted Craig, because Craig had requested a text as well, but Sören thought Craig might be sleeping.  
  
Sören waited a few minutes and just as he was about to put his phone in his pocket, the text notification chime went off. It was Anthony.  
  
 _I'm glad you arrived safe. Enjoy your trip! Send pics._  
  
Sören sent back a heart emoji and then he knew he had to do it to him. _Hi Glad You Arrived Safe Enjoy Your Trip Send Pics._  
  
Anthony replied back less than a minute later. _Piss off._ With a heart emoji.  
  
Since Nicholas had a UK driver's license, even though he did not own a vehicle living in central London, he was allowed to drive in the United States. It was however Nicholas's first experience with driving Stateside and he scowled at the selection of cars. "The steering wheel is on the wrong side," he said.  
  
Sören snorted and patted him. "Just wait until we visit Iceland. It's like that there, too, both the wheel and driving on the other side of the road than in England."  
  
Then Sören realized he'd spoken of it definitively, not an "if" but a "when". He marveled at that as Nicholas worked out details with the dealership. The memory of his final weeks in Iceland would always haunt him, but he was starting to be OK with the idea of going back there to visit... the idea that he was safe with Nicholas...  
  
...or Anthony. Sören swallowed hard, trying not to miss him. Sure enough, as if Anthony knew he was being thought of, all the way across an ocean, Sören's phone went off with a text notification. It was Anthony, sending a picture of Tobias and Seumas, snuggling together.  
  
 _They're finally friends._  
  
Sören smiled and tugged on Nicholas's sleeve to show him. Nicholas smiled and put an arm around him.  
  
Then Anthony texted: _Geir says hi._  
  
 _Hi Geir!_ Before Anthony had moved in, Geir and Karen had said they'd watch Tobias. There was no need for that now, with Anthony living there, but Sören knew Geir would be visiting Anthony during the week, and probably Karen would want to feed him.  
  
But even though it was good that Anthony was there to take care of Tobias, Sören still felt an ache, looking at the brilliant blue sky and the palm trees, breathing in the salt air. He missed Anthony, and part of him wished Anthony was there, even though this was his and Nicholas's anniversary and they should have couple time. He still wished they could bring Anthony if there was a next time...  
  
...the thought of them inviting Anthony into their relationship sent a frisson through Sören. Of course, Sören didn't know if Anthony liked Nicholas that way - he suspected Anthony had the hots for Nicholas, as Anthony had mentioned a fondness for older men, including a "silver fox" in Sweden when he was younger - and Sören didn't know if Nicholas was attracted to Anthony or would even consider such a thing. That sort of relationship couldn't be forced, and Sören knew even if there was a mutual attraction, all three of them sharing each other wouldn't necessarily be easier.  
  
Sören thought about bringing it up to Nicholas, but since he and Anthony weren't technically even back together yet, he didn't, plus he thought it would be bad timing now, intruding on _their_ time, just the two of them. He kissed Nicholas's cheek and they leaned on each other on the way to the car.  
  
Nicholas had gone all out for their vacation - he'd rented a suite at the expensive Hilton Hawaiian Village, a resort with a lagoon and botanical gardens where Elvis Presley had once stayed. While it was possible to have an entire vacation without leaving the resort, with its beach and restaurants and places to see exotic wildlife, Sören and Nicholas still wanted to take in other parts of Hawaii, especially the Pacific Ocean. Their one-year anniversary was coming up tomorrow on Valentine's Day, and while they were sitting in Heathrow waiting to board, Sören looked up things to do on his laptop and had suggested a sunrise hike up the iconic "Stairway to Heaven" for the morning of their anniversary. Nicholas had checked details on his tablet and informed Sören that the hike was both illegal and somewhat dangerous, so they'd compromised on the Lanikai Pillbox Hike instead. Sören was already looking forward to it, but they had many hours to kill before then.  
  
Even though they were interested in seeing Hawaii beyond the resort, Sören was nonetheless impressed with the village as their car pulled in. He let out a low whistle as they got out of the car, looking around at the palm trees and the lagoon with the view of Diamond Head. "Holeeeeee shit," Sören said.  
  
"It gets better," Nicholas said, smiling.  
  
They checked in and wheeled their baggage up to a suite in the exclusive Ali'i Tower with a king bed, chairs, a desk, a flat-screen TV and a small kitchenette, and two lanais with a gorgeous view of the ocean. As soon as Sören set down his luggage, he walked out onto the terrace and breathed in the air, his curls stirring in the breeze. He giggled happily, admiring the view of the bright blue sky and water. Nicholas came out and put an arm around him.  
  
"Thank you so much for this." Sören kissed his cheek.  
  
"I love you, sweetheart." Nicholas took Sören's hand and kissed it.  
  
"I love you." Sören threw his arms around him and kissed him hard. "And I love blue." He giggled again.  
  
"I think you might still be a little high."  
  
"High on life," Sören said, but he knew as a doctor that the Xanax was still in his system.  
  
Staying in the Ali'i gave them access to a pool and whirlpool, and after the long ordeal of travel, a dip sounded delightful. Sören and Nicholas applied sunblock, went to the whirlpool and cuddled in the bubbles, relaxing. Sören looked up at the sky and around at the palm trees and tears came to his eyes.  
  
"Are you all right, darling?"  
  
Sören nodded. He wiped the tears, not wanting to cry in public and disrupt other people's relaxation. "I'm just... happy." Sören smiled through his tears and put Nicholas's hand on his heart. "I love you so much. And I... it's so beautiful here. I know we haven't seen all of Hawaii yet, and this is a manmade resort but it's still _so beautiful_." Sören's breath caught at the brilliant blue. "I never knew skies could be so... blue."  
  
"Especially with this time of year in London," Nicholas quipped.  
  
Sören nodded. "A lot of overcast days where I'm from, too."  
  
"I'm glad you're this happy." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "I did hope you would like it here. It looked lovely from all the pictures I'd seen and... you deserve loveliness."  
  
"It's so blue." Sören started giggling again. "Oh god, I'm high as fuck."  
  
"One needn't be high to appreciate the vibrancy of color here," Nicholas said. "Truth be told, I was hoping that as an artist, you might feel some inspiration from the trip."  
  
"I do." Sören's eyes met Nicholas's and he thought of the dreams he'd had of a dark-haired brother-lover, with eyes as blue as the Hawaiian skies. Energy like the endless sky and sea, peaceful and intense all at once, going up and up and up to the burning blue stars.  
  
Sören's intense feelings soon mellowed, the whirlpool turning him to happy mush. Cuddling with Nicholas put him in an amorous mood, and when they were back in their suite, Sören began leading Nicholas towards the bed. "Fuck me," he said.  
  
Nicholas chuckled. "Tomorrow. The Xanax needs more time to clear your system."  
  
"Oh, all right." Sören felt he wasn't so high he was incapable of consent, but he respected Nicholas's wishes to make absolutely sure nonetheless.  
  
"We can cuddle some more."  
  
Sören nodded. "I love cuddles."  
  
That was what they did, and Sören was relaxed enough that he ended up going to sleep. A little over an hour later Nicholas gently shook him awake and once he was stirred from his nap, Nicholas began to rain kisses over Sören's face. Sören rubbed noses with him and then groaned at the time.  
  
"I did want us to make our reservation on time," Nicholas said, tousling Sören's hair.  
  
The reservation was at a surf-and-turf restaurant, an open-air beachfront location. Sören was tickled to see Nicholas in aloha attire, something he normally wouldn't wear. They still had their leis from the airport and put them back on to wear them to dinner. They were just in time to watch the sunset as they ate pan-roasted mahi and seared 'ahi. Sören's eyes teared up again watching the blaze over the ocean.  
  
After their meal they took a walk along Waikiki Beach, holding hands. On impulse, Sören took off his shoes and socks and strode into the ocean, going up to his calves, watching the last glimmer of gold in the indigo sky, sparkling on the water. The waves felt cleansing, invigorating. Sören took deep breaths and looked back at Nicholas waiting on the shore, feeling love so fierce it could shatter him.  
  
Then the thought came to him, splintering through his joy - _He's gone all out like this because he doesn't know how much time he has left, he's treating this first anniversary like it might be our last anniversary._  
  
Nicholas, of course, was in very good condition for his age; his arthritis only slowed him down a little. But Sören knew the decline was inevitable, and though he tried to not think about it too often, here it was, watching the twilight, thinking that Nicholas was in the twilight of his own life. The thought of losing Nicholas was unbearable.  
  
 _Medicine is advancing all the time. Maybe by the time he's starting to go downhill, there might be something to give him more years._  
  
But Sören knew that wasn't a hope he could put much weight behind. He could only hope that Nicholas would be one of those old men in his eighties putting the young whippersnappers to shame with his health and vigor. And it was easy enough now, seeing Nicholas take off his own socks and shoes and come towards him into the waves, to think he would be around for a long, long time yet. Sören opened his arms and pulled his beloved close, and they kissed.  
  
The high tide started to come in and now instead of reaching their calves, their shorts were getting drenched as well. Sören howled and snorted as Nicholas dragged him out of the water, looking mortified.  
  
"As you know, I was not planning on a swim at this hour," Nicholas said, looking down at his wet shorts.  
  
Sören snickered. "It's just a little water."  
  
The fatigue from travel set in again once they got back to the suite. Nicholas set the alarm so they could wake up in the middle of the night to prepare for the sunrise hike. He put on the flat-screen TV and began looking for something they could watch. Sören squeaked when he saw the Disney version of _Aladdin_ was coming on.  
  
"That was one of my favorite movies as a kid," Sören said.  
  
They snuggled together under the sheets and watched the cartoon together. When "A Whole New World" came on, Sören sang to Nicholas in earnest, not wanting this to be their last trip together. He wanted to show Nicholas his home country. He wanted to go to Scotland with Nicholas, as Nicholas had been talking about for some time. Eventually, he wanted to go to Hawaii with both Nicholas and Anthony.  
  
He wanted to see the world with the men he loved. London was his home because the people he loved were there. But there was so much to see and do.  
  
 _Unbelievable sights  
Indescribable feeling  
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling  
Through an endless diamond sky  
  
A whole new world  
A hundred thousand things to see  
I'm like a shooting star, I've come so far  
I can't go back to where I used to be  
A whole new world  
With new horizons to pursue  
I'll chase them anywhere  
There's time to spare  
Let me share this whole new world with you_  
  
When the song was over, Nicholas held Sören and kissed the top of his head.  
  
 _Stay with me._ Sören's arms tightened around him. _See the world with me._ He closed his eyes, not wanting to cry. _Never leave me._  
  
Nicholas took Sören's chin in his hand and his thumb stroked Sören's cheek, traced his lips. "As you know, I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Sören gave him a kiss.  
  
Nicholas pulled Sören against his chest and Sören nuzzled the silver pelt. He listened to the beat of the older man's heart - still strong, still so full of life. It soothed him, and as much as Sören loved the movie, he started to fall asleep.  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Fuck. The fucking. Fuck."  
  
Nicholas chuckled as he turned off the alarm. "As you know, you wanted to take a sunrise hike the morning of our anniversary -"  
  
"Jæja, I know. Doesn't mean I like the sound of that alarm clock. Or mornings." Sören managed to smile back at Nicholas. "I hate mornings, but I love you."  
  
"I love you. Happy anniversary, sweetheart." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
Their lips brushed, and parted, and soon the kiss heated, with Sören's hands sliding over Nicholas's furry chest, enjoying the feel of his chest hair. But then Nicholas took Sören's hands away and booped the tip of his nose. "Later," Nicholas promised. "We have to get going soon if we want to catch the sunrise."  
  
They had just enough time for a cup of coffee and to make sure they packed essentials for the hike. The trip to the car in the parking lot was enough of a hike for Sören, who was questioning his sanity at waking up at this hour. But it had indeed been his idea, and the romantic symbolism of ascending peaks and watching the sunrise together on the morning of their one-year anniversary still spoke to him.  
  
On the drive to the neighborhood where the trail began, Sören's phone went off. Sören saw a text from Craig.  
  
 _Hi. Thinking of you. Miss you. Love you._  
  
Sören missed Craig, too. For a brief instant he had the wild thought of him, Nicholas, Anthony, and Craig all together, living together, sharing each other, on a vacation much like this one. He swallowed hard and pushed the thought away, not wanting to get his hopes up. He texted Craig back. _I have something to show you._  
  
Craig replied, _Oh do you._ A wink emoji.  
  
Sören sent back an eggplant emoji and a stuck-out-tongue emoji, and then _No, not that. You'll see._ He was going to take some photos of the sunrise.  
  
The hike up the trail was short, taking less than an hour, but also steep, enough that it was as long as Sören could take. It was both heartening and frustrating to see that even with his arthritis, Nicholas had less of a hard time going up the trail than Sören did, with Sören having to pause every so often and catch his breath because of asthma. But Nicholas's encouragement helped. "That's my boy," Nicholas said as Sören kept going after another quick rest stop. He put an arm around Sören and patted him. "You're a good boy, trying for Daddy."  
  
Sören's face lit up and his heart soared. He loved hearing those words.  
  
Then he felt a sharp, bitter ache. His father had died when he was too young to remember, and what little he remembered of his mother, she had spoken of him fondly. His father's sister Katrín was a bitter, mean-spirited hag, but Einar had been even worse. When Sören had asthma attacks growing up, if they were in front of Einar, he would be mocked for it. Sören had ended up in the emergency room once because he was having an asthma attack and Einar had withheld his inhaler, calling him weak, telling him he was just doing it for attention. Nicholas was the father figure Sören had always needed, and while it didn't undo the past, it nonetheless soothed deep hurt places. Sören reached for Nicholas's hand, and squeezed. "I love you, Daddy," he husked.  
  
The "pillboxes" were house-type buildings covered with graffiti, which Nicholas tutted at, but Sören found interesting - street art wasn't always his thing, apart from Banksy, but Sören _did_ think it was a valid form of art, and he studied it as they hiked past, wishing he'd had the foresight to bring something to paint with so he could leave a mark.  
  
Finally they came to the top, just in time for the sun to begin rising. There was a sliver of gold that grew to a blaze of orange cutting through blues and purples, and then the orange was met by magenta, turning the sea violet and green. Sören took pictures, wanting to preserve the moment... and with it, his feeling of awe at the beauty of the world. He had no gods; this was his religion. He thought of the "before time" of his dreams where the seasons never changed and the sky was only silver or gold, and sometimes both, and while the silver-gold skies were marvelous, that world seemed so colorless compared to the reality of this world, in the glory of the dawn. Sören's hair stood on end, his skin breaking out into gooseflesh as the sky and the sea were so vibrant it was as if they had been made of a rainbow.  
  
"Holy fuck," Sören said under his breath, a shiver going through him. "What an anniversary present."  
  
"Indeed." Nicholas gestured to the shifting colors of the sunrise, then stroked Sören's face, twined an errant curl around his finger. "Every morning that I wake up to you _feels_ like this, here." He put his free hand on his heart. "You are my light, Sören. My fire."  
  
Sören grabbed Nicholas and kissed him hard, kissed him like they and the sunrise were the only thing that existed. Sören quivered at the feeling of Nicholas's hands sliding down his back, then reaching to cup and rub his ass, the promise that he would take it later. Nicholas sucked on Sören's lower lip before kissing him back, and Sören moaned into the kiss. There was no one else around, and Sören found himself undoing the buttons of Nicholas's Hawaiian shirt one by one. Nicholas also undid Sören's shirt. They fumbled with each other's shorts, and Sören pushed Nicholas into the grass, climbing over him, leaning in for a kiss as their hard cocks rubbed together.  
  
Sören hadn't thought to bring lube for the hike - he didn't know how many other people would be around and didn't want to take the risk of public sex. But now, looking out at the magnificent colors over the Pacific, the beauty and wonder of the moment was a potent aphrodisiac. And Sören wanted to savor the passion with Nicholas just like he was savoring the sunrise. They could fuck later. Here and now they made love, cock rubbing against cock as they kissed and kissed, hands exploring, caressing. Sören groaned at the erotic sight of their two hard cocks together, loving the feel of Nicholas's silken steel teasing his. It was languid and sensual, the perfect way to enjoy this morning in paradise.  
  
As they got closer, Nicholas took both their cocks into his fist, stroking, and Sören put a hand on Nicholas's hand, his other hand playing through Nicholas's chest hair. "So fucking sexy," Sören growled, leaning in to lick it, rub his nose in it. He lingered at the nipples, lapping and suckling one while playing with the other, then leaned in to kiss Nicholas, their tongues teasing between kisses. Nicholas leaned up and began to suckle hungrily at Sören's nipples, pulling a ring with his teeth before licking more slowly, then sucking harder. He stroked harder and faster and Sören's breath hitched, trembling, feeling himself _right there_. "Oh god." Their eyes met. " _Daddy_."  
  
"Yes, sweetheart." Nicholas's free hand touched Sören's face, pet his curls. "I'm close too. You want to come with Daddy?"  
  
"God, yes..."  
  
Sören held back, the pleasure almost too intense to bear, the sight of their cocks dripping precum, one dripping onto the other, making streamers, adding to his excitement. At last Nicholas groaned and tensed, and Sören knew he was ready. Their eyes met and Sören gasped as they came together. Sören looked down and cried out as he saw cock shooting on cock, their seed gushing and running over. The ecstasy heightened the beauty of the sunrise, also hitting its peak with color, now a burning pink-orange-gold in lighter blue.  
  
"I love you," Sören whispered before he kissed Nicholas as hard as he could.  
  
Nicholas moaned into the kiss, letting go of their spent cocks, arms around Sören, rocking him.  
  
Sören curled up on him, snuggled into his chest, and they watched the sunrise fade, the entire sky washed pale hazy gold before giving way to soft blue. When the show was over they put their clothes back on and looked around - the view was still impressive, and Sören took more photos. Then he took a moment just to breathe, enjoying the salt air.  
  
"This was worth the fucking alarm clock noise," Sören said.  
  
Nicholas laughed. Sören loved making him laugh. "I daresay you're cute when you're grumpy."  
  
"So are you."  
  
"I am not cute."  
  
"Yes, yes you are." Sören kissed Nicholas's nose.  
  
Nicholas put an arm around him and gestured out at the ocean. "See? We didn't have to break our necks or get fined with Stairway to Heaven."  
  
Sören smiled. "We can bring Stairway to Heaven to us." With that, he began to sing the lullaby his mother had sung to him as a small child, the old Led Zeppelin song.  
  
 _There's a lady who's sure  
All that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to Heaven  
When she gets there she knows  
If the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for  
Oh oh oh oh and she's buying a stairway to Heaven..._  
  
The hike down was not as bad as the hike up, but the steepness of the trail still meant going slowly and carefully. Sören was glad to get back to the hotel, and even more glad to get breakfast.  
  
After breakfast they showered together, and though Sören was usually aroused by that, he was still spent enough from the intense orgasm earlier, and tired from the hike, that the shower made him sleepy instead. Nicholas didn't mind returning to bed for a few extra hours of sleep, and it was cozy to snuggle with him, legs braided as they drifted off.  
  
Sören woke before Nicholas in the afternoon, and watched him sleep for a few minutes, studying his face, adoring him. Then his mischievous side came out and he started to tickle Nicholas's nose and eyebrows. Nicholas woke up with such a stern expression that it made Sören gigglesnort, and then Nicholas got him back by tickling his sides and armpits, making Sören squeal and scream and thrash about. Sören loved the older man's rare playful moments, the warmth under the frosty coolness he showed the world. Nicholas gave a bashful little smile when they calmed down.  
  
"What do you want to do for the rest of our anniversary day, love?" Nicholas asked, looking out at the ocean.  
  
"Maybe we can go to Waikiki Beach and watch the sunset there, this evening? As far as this afternoon goes..." Sören thought a moment. He remembered seeing in the travel brochure the resort had a large pool with water slides. "I wanna go on the water slides, Daddy."  
  
Paradise Pool was huge, boasting long water slides and a large waterfall, surrounded by a landscape of palm trees and tropical shrubbery, and big stones. Sören made happy noises as he ascended the steps to a water slide, and Nicholas watched, chuckling, as Sören slid down into the water, wading over to him.  
  
"How was that?" Nicholas asked, giving him a hug and a kiss.  
  
"That was fun. I wanna do it again."  
  
Nicholas smiled indulgently as Sören waved to him from the top of the water slide. Sören went down again, laughing, feeling like a big kid again. Except that he hadn't been allowed to play much after his mother died, Katrín had not been tolerant of noise or mess. So now he was getting to do the things he couldn't do, and loving it. This, too, was healing. Sören wondered if that was by design, if Nicholas had known about the water slides when he chose this place for their vacation stay.  
  
Sören went down the slide again and again and then he began to tug on Nicholas's arm. "Come on, go down the slide with me."  
  
"Oh dear." Nicholas chuckled.  
  
"Oh don't tell me..." Sören's voice lowered a few octaves. " _Shan't._ " Then Sören's voice returned to its usual pitch. "I mean, I won't force you if you're really not comfortable with it..."  
  
Nicholas took a deep breath. He looked at Sören, then looked at the slide, and back at Sören, and nodded. "Shall."  
  
Sören couldn't believe it. He let out a little squeak as he began pulling Nicholas along to the steps, with Nicholas laughing all the way.  
  
"I do believe this is one of the silliest things I've done in my life," Nicholas remarked as they ascended the steps.  
  
Sören couldn't resist. "It could be worse."  
  
"How could you possibly make this sillier, Sören Sigurðsson."  
  
"Next time I'll wear those pineapple bottoms."  
  
Nicholas groaned loudly and chuckled. When nobody was looking, he swatted Sören's ass. Sören wiggled his ass as he continued to climb the steps.  
  
They slid down together. Nicholas actually laughed, and that made Sören ridiculously happy, grinning so hard his face hurt as they splashed down into the water. "I can't believe I did that," Nicholas said, chuckling, shaking his head.  
  
"I can't either." Sören smirked. "See, it's good to take the stick out of your ass once in awhile!"  
  
"I do not have a stick up my -"  
  
"Right, my bad, it's a branch."  
  
Nicholas tweaked Sören's nose. "Brat."  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören looked back up at the slide. "Let's do that again."  
  
Nicholas made a noise, and laughed some more. "Again?"  
  
"Again. Awwww, come onnnnnnn." Sören couldn't resist. "You're awfully cute when you let yourself have fun."  
  
"I am not cute."  
  
"You're even cuter when you pretend that you're not cute."  
  
Nicholas looked so grumpy then that Sören worried for a second he'd crossed a line - and then Nicholas splashed him. Sören spluttered and giggled, overjoyed that Nicholas was once again indulging his playful side. Sören splashed him back and they got into a splash war, until kids swimming by stopped for a minute and one said to the other, "They need a time out."  
  
"Or a Get Along Shirt, like the kind Mom makes us wear."  
  
Sören and Nicholas looked at each other and lost it, and then Sören remembered those dreams again, the way he used to banter with his brothers in a way that others might interpret as hostile, but it was all in fun. Sören sighed, and gave Nicholas a little hug as they made their way back to the slide.  
  
They took another ride down the slide, and when Sören mouthed the word "cute" to him Nicholas started splashing him again. Sören splashed him back fast and furious, and started chasing Nicholas around the pool, the two of them splashing each other and laughing hysterically. When they got to the waterfall Nicholas pulled Sören in with him and kissed him - a gentle, chaste kiss since they were in public, but still tender and sensual.  
  
Once they got in their hotel suite, all of the giddy laughter and that sweet moment under the waterfall got Sören's blood stirring. They quickly undressed and climbed on the bed together. Feverish kisses and petting became a hungry sixty-nine, and before they could come, Sören straddled Nicholas's hips and rode him, holding Nicholas's hands tight. When they got there, Nicholas's arms enfolded him and Sören leaned in for a kiss. One of Nicholas's hands reached to stroke Sören's face, looking into his eyes with such wonder and love that it brought tears to Sören's own. Their foreheads touched and they breathed each other's breath.  
  
"Come, my love," Nicholas husked.  
  
Sören came hard, an orgasm so intense that all he could do was gasp and pant, not even able to scream. Nicholas roared like thunder as he climaxed, and they kissed deeply, taking each other's hands again.  
  
They were lightly dozing in the afterglow when there was a knock at the door. Nicholas patted Sören as he climbed out and threw on a robe. Sören watched as Nicholas answered the door, speaking softly, and closed his eyes, sinking back into the coziness. When he heard Nicholas's footfall his eyes opened again, curious, and he gasped at the sight of Nicholas carrying a tropical bouquet of orange hibiscus, deep pink plumeria, and blue ginger - the wild colors of the sunrise they had watched together.  
  
"Yes, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for you." Nicholas handed it to him.  
  
"Oh, Nick." Sören smiled, deeply touched.  
  
Before they left for their sunset walk along the beach, Sören took a hibiscus flower and tucked it in his hair. Nicholas smiled at him. "You're beautiful," Nicholas said.  
  
"So are you." Sören put a hand on his lover's heart. "And all of this." He sighed, happy and grateful.  
  
Nicholas took Sören's camera to take a photo of him in his aloha outfit, curls a couple inches past his shoulders, a lei around his neck and a hibiscus in his hair, smiling. "I always want to remember you this way," Nicholas said, and booped Sören's nose.  
  
Sören pulled him in for a kiss. "I always want to remember you going down the water slide," he teased.  
  
Nicholas laughed and swatted Sören's bottom. "You're a terrible influence."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
"And I need it." Nicholas sighed, his eyes soft. "You give me life. Your fire warms these old bones."  
  
"I'm very fond of one of those bones."  
  
"I had no idea. Truly." Nicholas swatted Sören's bottom again. "Let's go, brat."  
  
As the sun set on Waikiki Beach, Sören stripped down - revealing the pineapple-covered bikini bottoms he'd threatened earlier - and waded into the Pacific Ocean. Nicholas took some pictures of Sören in the ridiculous underwear, and Sören enjoying the sea as it turned to liquid fire, the world blazing orange, before the final glory of indigo, fuchsia and violet. Later at the restaurant, as they were waiting for their food in twilight, surrounded by fairy lights and lanterns and tiki torches, Sören got a text from Anthony - _the cats woke me up_ with more cat pictures - and Sören sent back a picture of himself in the pineapple underwear on the beach.  
  
 _Nice view,_ Anthony quipped.  
  
For dessert there was fresh fruit - which included pineapple. Sören took pictures of the pineapple and sent one to Anthony to troll him.  
  
"You're never going to give it up, are you?" Nicholas asked when he saw what Sören was doing.  
  
"Nope." Sören grinned.  
  
"Good." Nicholas snickered into his drink. "I think he needs your brand of... you-ness, too."  
  
"Yeah." Sören sighed, aching for Anthony. Wishing the three of them could share paradise together. _Just living everyday life with both of them would be paradise._ But he didn't want to let himself hope, not wanting his hope to be as crushed as the pineapple on their table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some pictures of the sunrise:  
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> And here is the sunset:  
> 
> 
>   
> 


	33. One Year Of Pain

Anthony woke to the feel of Seumas headbutting and nuzzling him, kneading his stomach, the sound of Seumas's deep, rumbly purr and the rain falling softly outside. He opened his eyes and smiled at the cat, who walked up and headbutted his face hard, and he began to stroke the grey fur, watching as Seumas settled into a loaf beside him, continuing to knead the blankets. For a few minutes he just lay there petting the cat, listening to the rain, warm and cozy in his blankets, perfectly content and peaceful.  
  
Then when he looked at the clock, and the 2016 calendar he had hanging on the wall - birds, with a new bird every month - the content feeling went away. It was a Sunday morning, and ordinarily a rainy Sunday morning with a purring cat would be the best thing ever. But today was March thirteenth.  
  
A year ago, on March thirteenth, 2015, Justin Roberts had run a light and crashed his McLaren into Anthony's Audi, killing himself and injuring Anthony. It had also been a Friday the thirteenth - Anthony wasn't superstitious at all but nonetheless, having the worst luck of his life on that day was not lost on him.  
  
He had survived the accident. His concussion, broken ribs and dislocated shoulder had eventually healed. Now he just had scarring on his arms and chest and back, he continued to need a cane after the spinal contusion, and he had PTSD from the accident and very likely would never get behind the wheel of a car again, when he had once loved driving. But when he had woken up the day after the accident and wished he hadn't... all things considered, this was a much better outcome than he had envisioned for himself a year ago. He wasn't completely recovered, he never would be, but nonetheless, he'd had some healing. Life wasn't perfect, but it was in many ways better than it had been before the accident. He wouldn't go as far as to say the accident had been a "blessing in disguise", but he doubted he'd be living with Sören if the accident hadn't happened. And though they weren't back together yet, living with Sören was still comforting, filled that Sören-shaped void inside him at least somewhat.  
  
Yet, even though the accident had opened certain doors for him, it was still a tragedy. He was bitter about the way people looked at him with pity when he was out and about. He was bitter about the way society expected him to treat his disability like "a life lesson" and something to be grateful for, the myth of being able to "overcome" rather than struggle with the hardships... and he was also bitter for the fact that he had it easier than disabled people who weren't white, weren't male, weren't from class privilege, his heart sick at the injustices built into society. He was bitter about the fact that if he re-entered the gay dating scene, his handicap absolutely would be a dealbreaker for many image-conscious gay men, and those that didn't dismiss him right off the bat might once they saw him naked and saw his scars. He loved Sören because he was Sören, not because he took Sören's love for granted and thought Sören was "what he could get", but when he'd woken up from the accident, getting back together with Sören did not seem remotely within the realm of possibility.  
  
Someone else had lost their life, and his own had been complicated. And though he was managing for what he could do with his limited mobility, and had found workarounds or help for what he couldn't, the mind was not as easy to heal. The accident had felt not simply like a defeat, but a visceral reminder of how fragile and short existence really was. He would never truly be _safe_. Something else could happen to him or someone he loved, anytime, and there was nothing he could do about it. Living with the constant feeling that the other shoe was going to drop sooner or later was not a fun way to live.  
  
It had been a year, and it had felt like forever with very little progress - it felt like part of him was still trapped at the scene of the accident, reliving it over and over again, reliving the utter hopelessness he'd felt when he'd opened his eyes on the hospital bed. That feeling of wishing he hadn't woken up. He was at least not sorry to be alive now, and he had hope for his future that he didn't have a year ago, but there was at least as much fear as there was hope, enough that it made him think hope was dangerous. Shattered hopes was one of the worst feelings in the world. He had survived the shattering of his body; he didn't know if he could survive the shattering of his heart all over again.  
  
Anthony lay there, feeling leaden, wishing he could just hide in bed until the day was over.  
  
But he didn't. Both Helen and his new therapist - an older man named Edmund, assigned because Helen's availability conflicted with his schedule - encouraged Anthony to distract himself when he was triggered, rather than spinning his wheels. And Anthony didn't want to cause alarm, as he knew he would if he lay in bed all day. Sören was stressed out enough during the week, he didn't want Sören to worry about him.  
  
Nonetheless, as Anthony tried to go about his business as usual that Sunday, he felt like he was suffocating under a dark shroud of his gloom, his mind continually replaying the accident, and waking up in the hospital like it had been a horrible nightmare... those first few weeks of utter despair and defeat. And Sören was attuned enough to his moods that throughout the Sunday family dinner, Sören kept giving him concerned looks.  
  
A little while after dinner, Anthony excused himself to his room. "I'm not feeling well," he said. That wasn't entirely a lie - he felt soul-sick.  
  
He had been laying down for close to fifteen minutes when there was a gentle knock at the door and Sören's soft voice. "Hey, you OK?"  
  
Anthony sighed, not knowing how to answer that.  
  
Sören opened the door a crack and then Tobias pushed the door open wider and came trotting in. He hopped up on the bed and gave Anthony headbutts, purring loudly. Anthony chuckled as he stroked the cat's fur and kissed the top of his head, and gave a genuine smile as he watched Seumas come over, tail in the air, and they greeted by touching noses, before they proceeded to start grooming each other. Sören gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and gave Anthony a knowing look, eyebrow raised.  
  
Anthony knew it did no good to lie about it. "It's the one-year anniversary of the accident."  
  
"Oh." Then Sören's eyes widened as it fully registered. " _Oh._ "  
  
"Yeah." Anthony frowned. He sat up a little and folded his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be a downer, so I didn't want to bring it up -"  
  
"What did I tell you about that macho pride shit?" Sören gave him a stern look.  
  
"OK, but this isn't that, it's not wanting to be a burden -"  
  
" _Cornelius._ " Sören's eyes narrowed.  
  
Anthony's eyebrows went up. He was _almost_ amused by Sören calling him by his given name, knowing when Sören Sigurðsson was formal, he meant business. But his amusement was chased by a prickle of fear - he didn't want Sören to think he was falling back into the same behavior patterns that had caused an issue before and decide not to give him a second chance, in time. Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and winced a little. "I mean it. And... I was trying to distract myself for my own mental health, rather than ruminating. I felt if I mentioned it, it might... not help."  
  
"Distraction is good sometimes but sometimes you need to talk about things. I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to talk about it, but..." Sören shook his head. "I don't know that keeping it inside is good either."  
  
"I don't even know where to begin, is the problem." Anthony took one of the pillows and hugged it. Seumas took that as his cue to climb onto Anthony for hugs. Anthony hugged the cat instead, petting, listening to the deep purr.  
  
"First thing that comes to your head."  
  
"This is the new normal and I know it could be worse, and I feel guilty complaining when I know there's people who do have it worse, people who didn't survive..." _Like the other driver._ "But I still..."  
  
Sören nodded. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being disabled, but you have a right to feel however you feel about your disability, too."  
  
"Thank you. I feel like there's this... pressure to be happy about it? And I don't want to take away from people who feel that way. But my life has changed _so much._ " Anthony looked at his cane, and back at Sören. "And having this kind of challenge with mobility at thirty-six, I wonder if I'll be even more slowed down when I get to be Nicholas's age."  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. A lot could happen with medical breakthroughs between now and then." But then Sören looked sad, and Anthony knew what Sören was thinking: in thirty years Nicholas would probably not be alive, but they probably would be.  
  
Sören quickly got off that subject, looking uncomfortable. "Go on. I know there's more."  
  
Anthony sighed. He heard footfall coming up the steps, and he thought about waiting, but Sören was giving him that expectant face. "I feel like a monster." Anthony swallowed hard. "Someone _died_. I logically know it wasn't my fault, but..."  
  
"You're not a monster, but it is normal to feel guilt, even though you're not guilty." Sören gave a rueful little smile. "I feel like a piece of shit every time one of my patients dies, even if it's not my fault and I did everything I could do."  
  
"I know." Anthony remembered the time he'd held Sören all night when Sören had lost a patient on the operating table. He reached out to take Sören's hand, and Sören squeezed. "I still feel like I have some sort of debt or need closure or something. Maybe..." Anthony felt utterly daft for saying it. The footfall was coming closer, but he still kept going, Sören's eyes compelling him. "Maybe I should go to Justin Roberts's grave, bring flowers. You... you're welcome to come with me. I could use moral support -"  
  
There was a little high-pitched noise from the hall, and it wasn't a cat.  
  
Sören's eyebrows shot up. "Craig?" Sören called.  
  
"Sorry, I. Ah." Craig came to the door and looked like he'd seen a ghost. "I was coming up to hit the loo and then say goodnight to you before I go home but I..." Craig blinked. "I heard the name Justin Roberts."  
  
"Don't tell me you're an ultra," Anthony said, not wanting to deal with yet another person who thought he murdered the next Beckham, the golden boy of the World Cup.  
  
Craig snorted. "No. I'm more of a rugby guy than football."  
  
Then Anthony had a nagging feeling, and he took the punt. "You knew him?"  
  
"Yeah." Craig looked off to the side and down. "Can I... can I come in?"  
  
"Yes, go ahead." Anthony made a "come in" gesture.  
  
Craig sat in the armchair next to the bed and continued to look down, scowling. His body language indicated to Anthony that this was a very fraught topic for him, and his silence punctuated it. Finally Craig looked at them and took a deep breath. "So, before my second overdose, I was hanging with... well... a bunch of twats, putting it bluntly."  
  
Sören smirked. "Posh twats. With more money than sense."  
  
"Yeah. In fairness, I was one of them. Some of them were, you know. Professionals. A few barristers." Craig's eyes met Anthony's for a moment.  
  
"There is a high rate of drug abuse in my profession, yes," Anthony said. "I've done coke a few times. I've... known people who do it more than that." Like his ex-friend Steve, who seemed to be regularly coked up.  
  
"Yeah. And... socialites, reality TV stars, a few sports people. Justin was one of them."  
  
"Not surprised," Anthony said. He hadn't wanted to think ill of the dead, but his job had taught him not to trust celebrities, it seemed the more well-known someone was, the more unsavory skeletons they had in their closet.  
  
"When things went south with me and Emily - when we were living together but taking a break - I had a couple friends with benefits and he was one of them."  
  
"Oh god." Anthony felt the pit of his stomach rising. "I killed your lover -"  
  
"No." Their eyes met again. "Your car was crashed into by my rapist."  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped. So did Sören's. Then Sören had that madness in his eyes, that look like he wanted to burn everything to the ground. Sören's fists clenched and a menacing growl rose in his throat. It would have aroused Anthony if he, too, were not finding himself angry. Horrified... and angry. He had seen the darker side of humanity more times than he'd wanted to, and it made him sick when he had to defend rapists to give them a fair trial, so he could also defend the innocent. It was bad enough hearing about rape when he didn't know the victim. It was worse with a sweet kid like Craig, who Anthony still didn't know terribly well yet but had gotten the impression that Craig had been misguided in the past rather than evil. Anthony felt a surge of protectiveness, and resisted the urge to reach over and give Craig a hug.  
  
But now Sören pulled his submissive into his arms and held him tight. "That's who did it? _Fokking blóðugur saur, að deyja í bílslysi er of gott fyrir hann -_ "  
  
"Sören," Anthony said, a gentle reminder that the audience didn't speak Icelandic, though Anthony rather got the gist of what Sören was saying.  
  
Craig kissed Sören's cheek and patted him. "Yeah. I... I didn't want to say who it was because, you know... the world worships him and thinks he can do no wrong. And he threatened me after he raped me, he said that if I told anyone he'd..." His voice trailed off.  
  
" _Jesus._ " Anthony's voice shook. He felt tears come to his eyes, aching for the hell that Craig had been through.  
  
"When the news finally got around that he died, my thought was _oh thank god he's dead_. And I felt like such a horrible person for thinking that..." Craig shuddered and then he covered his mouth with his hand; Anthony saw the start of tears.  
  
Now they were both hugging Craig. Craig started to cry, and Anthony _knew_ what a big deal that was, with a man of Craig's background being raised in the "stiff upper lip" tradition. Anthony found himself tousling Craig's hair - a strangely fatherly gesture - and patted him in solidarity. "It's all right," Anthony said softly. "Don't be ashamed to cry."  
  
"I know you're venting about the accident and this is the wrong time for me to be upset," Craig choked out through his tears. "You probably think I'm an attention whore -"  
  
" _No,_ " Sören growled. He took Craig's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes. "Stop that shit immediately."  
  
"None of us think you're an attention whore," Anthony said honestly. "You didn't bloody _ask_ to be raped, or continue to struggle with all of the messy feelings involved after the fact."  
  
"And you're not a horrible person for being glad a _rapist_ is dead," Sören snarled. Of all the people to have strong feelings on the subject, Sören was definitely one, with his own past history. "If someone killed whoever drugged me and raped me back in Reykjavik, I'd give them a fucking medal." Sören quickly shot Anthony a pained look, realizing how that might sound. "Er. Not saying you're responsible..."  
  
"No, I know." Anthony nodded.  
  
"I hope you feel a little less guilty now," Sören said.  
  
"Don't give that bastard flowers," Craig said.  
  
"Jæja, we should go to his grave and piss on it," Sören said.  
  
Anthony facepalmed, feeling a twinge of guilt for laughing and yet not being able to help himself. And that little flutter - that answer was so delightfully Sören.  
  
As was Sören's next action. He began to do a little "ride the train" dance in his seat as he sang the chorus of "Piss On You", a parody of R Kelly by Dave Chapelle. " _I'mma give you some poo poo / I'mma give you some pee pee / I'mma give you some doo doo / And wash you now with some wee wee_..."  
  
"Nya," Seumas yelled, as if he agreed.  
  
"You gonna help?" Sören gave the cat an amused look.  
  
"Nya," Seumas said again, then headbutted Craig, as if to confirm that he, too, was in on the pissing-on-Justin-Roberts's-grave party.  
  
It felt good to laugh, after the tears. It didn't fix everything, but it helped take some of the edge off. After he calmed down a little Craig got up. "Thank you," Craig said, turning to Anthony.  
  
"You're welcome." And then Anthony pushed past his shyness a little, since Craig had let down his guard. "If you ever want someone to talk to, or a shoulder, ah."  
  
"I appreciate that." Craig smiled. "Same here, OK?"  
  
Anthony smiled back and nodded.  
  
Sören gave Anthony the "back in a minute" gesture and led Craig out of the bedroom. Anthony heard Sören and Craig talking in hushed tones, whispered "I love yous", the sound of kissing. Anthony felt a touch of wistful sadness and looked down, missing Sören. He wanted to be happy that Sören had love in his life - and that Craig had Sören's love; Anthony got the sense Craig needed it - but it still hurt just a little, Sören dangling just out of reach.  
  
As Craig went back down the stairs, Sören stepped back into Anthony's room. "Do you want to talk some more, or..."  
  
"I think I'll be OK," Anthony said - he was emotionally worn out now after the catharsis, and needed to try to unwind. He looked at Seumas, who said "Nya" again, and he gave the cat some more pets.  
  
"OK. If that changes, let me know." Sören's eyes were warm.  
  
Sören stepped out, and Anthony decided he'd get into his pajamas and do some Duolingo and read a bit before sleep. He was feeling calmer now - not quite OK, but not as not-OK as he'd been - and now after the talk he was in the right place for distraction, letting himself wander in a world of words until his eyes grew heavy.  
  
But once Anthony went to bed, the sleepiness faded and he was wide awake, laying there, his mind once again replaying the accident over and over, the first few days and weeks of rehabilitation, all of the helplessness, hopelessness, the feeling of _alone_. He needed to get to sleep to be fresh for work on Monday morning and he couldn't, and he felt like that was another thing that had been robbed from him. He began to cry - even as far as he'd come, it was like he hadn't completely left that awful place.  
  
Anthony tried to keep the tears down, not wanting to disturb Sören and Nicholas across the hall, but he knew Sören had very acute hearing and was also a light sleeper when he wasn't running on fumes, and sure enough, his muffled sobs had alerted Sören, who came over. "Hey," Sören said, climbing onto Anthony's bed, pulling him close. " _Hey._ " He started petting Anthony's hair and rocking him.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Anthony wept. "I was trying to keep it down -"  
  
"Shhhhhhh." Sören stroked his face, with such love in his eyes that it broke Anthony's heart. He brushed Anthony's tears with his thumbs, and booped Anthony's nose. "I know. I know it hurts. It's OK to let it out."  
  
With that, Sören lay next to Anthony and let Anthony snuggle into his chest, arms tight around him. He continued to rock Anthony, petting him, letting Anthony cry and cry. After a little while Nicholas came across the hall and stood there watching them, and Anthony swallowed hard, once again feeling guilty for disturbing their rest, but then Nicholas made a "come here" gesture. "Bring him," Nicholas told Sören.  
  
Sören led Anthony across the hall to his and Nicholas's bedroom, and Nicholas patted the bed before he climbed back in. Sören scooted Anthony into the middle, and after Nicholas drew the covers over them, they were both holding him, Nicholas spooning his back as he looked into Sören's eyes. Anthony wept harder - this time with a feeling of relief, it was _so good_ to have that comfort and warmth from both of them.  
  
"It's all right," Nicholas said softly, his deep voice confident, reassuring - Anthony could almost believe it when Nicholas said it.  
  
"I'm sorry," Anthony said again, looking at the time. "I didn't mean to disturb -"  
  
"Hush," Sören said. His eyes met Anthony's and he gave Anthony a little nuzzle. "We get it."  
  
"Sören told me today is the anniversary of the accident," Nicholas said. "As you know, these sorts of unpleasant anniversaries are difficult. It is understandable you would be upset and need some extra support."  
  
"I still feel ba-"  
  
Sören took Anthony's lips and closed them together. "Zip it."  
  
Anthony tried to smile through his lips being held together, appreciating Sören's sass more than usual. When Sören let go of Anthony's lips he wagged his finger before his arm went back around Anthony. "Just be. Let us hold you." Sören smoothed Anthony's hair. "Let your family take care of you."  
  
And it did feel like family - the two brothers he'd always wanted, of course, with incestuous feelings for both of them. Despite the fact that he was older than Sören, he felt younger... vulnerable. Sören was the more obviously sensitive one, wearing his heart on his sleeve, a soft, nurturing man, and yet there was a steel to him, a strength that came out now, protecting. Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder, and let himself truly _rest_ , safe in their arms.  
  
Nothing would ever be as it was before, his life had gone up in flames... but this was like new growth after a forest fire. A little over a year ago he'd had fake friends and feeling like he lived behind a mask, but now...  
  
"I feel real," Anthony heard himself muse aloud.  
  
"Hm?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
Anthony chuckled and quoted:  
  
 _'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'  
  
'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.  
  
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'  
  
'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'  
  
'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.'_  
  
" _The Velveteen Rabbit_ ," Nicholas said, his voice hushed. "You... memorized all of that?"  
  
"It was one of my favorite books as a kid," Anthony said. "Sometimes I can memorize longer passages, yes."  
  
Sören looked on the verge of tears. He kissed the tip of Anthony's nose. "You're not ugly at all, no." Then he held Anthony's lips together again, and this time Anthony gave a stifled laugh. "Now go the fuck to sleep."  
  
Anthony closed his eyes and when Sören let go of his lips, he sighed. He didn't get to sleep right away - he listened to Sören's heartbeat for awhile, savored the feel of being sandwiched between Sören and Nicholas, held in the fortress of their care. Savored the relief that at least he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't, he was accepted just as he was. The last year had been full of pain and struggle... but he also felt real, now. And as uncertain as the future was, knowing he'd gotten to this place made things just a little more OK.


	34. One Year Of Recovery

When Sören got home from work on the afternoon of Monday the twenty-first of March, he saw there was a package that had been delivered. One he'd been expecting.  
  
The day after the one-year anniversary of Anthony's accident, after Sören and Nicholas let him sleep in bed with him and held him all night, on his break from work Sören had looked online at weighted blankets, hearing they were therapeutic for neurodivergent people as well as people with anxiety disorders. Sören ordered two - one for Anthony, one for himself. They were here now, and Sören felt a happy tingle of excitement.  
  
It quickly went away as Sören lugged the heavy package into the lift, trying not to have a panic attack on the way up - Nicholas wasn't home yet, and neither was Anthony, or they would have met him downstairs and ridden up with him. Then he had to haul the package out of the lift, into the flat. He took a puff on his inhaler once he got in. Seumas and Tobias circled, curious at the box, and then proceeded to rub their faces on the cardboard, marking it with their scent. Tobias began chewing on the cardboard. Sören gently picked him up and moved him off, not wanting him to get puff mouth and need a steroid. Tobias meowed with protest.  
  
Then Seumas began to fuss like he hadn't eaten in days, even though there was still food in their dish.  
  
"Give me a minute," Sören said, like the cat understood him. "I gotta change and piss."  
  
"Nya," Seumas snapped.  
  
Sören blew a raspberry at the cat. "Nya," Seumas yelled again.  
  
Sören went upstairs to wash his hands, then went to the bedroom to change out of his scrubs and into street clothes, then made his way back to the bathroom, and Tobias waited outside in the hall while Seumas followed him in. Sören did his business while Seumas rubbed against his legs and stood up on his hind legs, urgently putting his front paws on Sören's knee and giving him a sad look. " _Nya._ NYA." When Sören washed his hands again, Seumas leapt from the floor directly onto Sören's shoulders, digging in with his claws.  
  
"You know, I love you, but you're a fucking dick," Sören said.  
  
Seumas leaned in his head and headbutted Sören's cheek. "Nya," he said, sounding a little happier, and smiled, purring. He began to knead with his claws.  
  
Seumas rode on Sören's shoulders all the way down to the kitchen, where Sören opened a can of food. Tobias dug in and Seumas went over to the dish, sniffed the food, and then walked away.  
  
"Dick," Sören said.  
  
"Nya."  
  
Sören opened the package and when he sat down to inspect the contents, Seumas hopped up for hugs. After Sören hugged him for a few minutes, petting, and Seumas headbutted his face a bunch of times, Seumas stood, stretched, and turned around, putting his ass right in Sören's face.  
  
" _Takk_ , that's just what I always wanted," Sören quipped.  
  
"Nya."  
  
Sören looked at the clock. Anthony wouldn't be home for another hour. He wanted to make the presentation of the gift special in some way, and he didn't have a lot of patience for gift wrapping. But more than anything else, he wanted to cheer Anthony up, who had a lingering touch of sadness after the one-year anniversary of the accident, which was understandable. Sören was going off to Craig's tonight and he felt a little guilty about leaving Anthony alone - Nicholas of course would be there but it wasn't the same.  
  
Sören took out a mint from the pineapple bucket, and smiled at the googly eyes he'd put on it - he did love trolling Anthony. And then it came to him, remembering that when he and Anthony used to live together in Kingston, sometimes Sören would take Anthony's barrister wig and leave it in weird random locations around their flat, like the kitchen counter, in the blender, in the dishwasher, on a lampshade, in the bookcase. Sometimes Sören made George ride the Roomba around the flat. It had been one of those little things that left a big void when Anthony was gone from his life, all the ways they'd made each other laugh.  
  
Anthony didn't have court today, so his wig was in his wardrobe. But Sören had an even better idea this time than putting it in some random place. Anthony still had a sketch Sören had made him when their relationship was fairly new, based on a joke Sören had made about wigs breeding like Tribbles. Sören knew Karen was getting home right about now. He took out his cell phone and hit her number on speed dial.  
  
"Hi," Karen said.  
  
Sören let Seumas talk into the phone. "Nya," Seumas said.  
  
Karen snickered and Sören laughed too, and harder when Seumas turned around and put his ass at the phone. He groaned loudly when Seumas let out a particularly ripe fart, before hopping down.  
  
"Hi, _elskan_ ," Sören said.  
  
"Hi! How are things?"  
  
"Not bad," Sören said. "Anthony's cat just farted in your general direction but otherwise life is good." _Or good enough._ Sören sighed, aching to be with Anthony again, but not yet. "Listen, I have the weirdest favor to ask you."  
  
"Oh? Is it illegal?"  
  
"No, but it probably should be." Sören chuckled, picturing Anthony's reaction to what he was about to do if Karen was able to deliver. "Jæja, so... do you by any chance still have your, ah, wig? From when you were a barrister?"  
  
There was a long pause, and Sören hoped he hadn't hit a nerve - he knew her former career was an unhappy time in her life - but when Karen answered she sounded confused rather than upset.  
  
"I do, why do you ask?"  
  
"Can I borrow it?"  
  
"... _What?_ " Karen started giggling.  
  
"I'm being serious. Can I borrow it? If possible, can you bring it over before five?"  
  
"I can bring it over now, yes, and... Sören, I'm not going back into law, so if you want it, you can just have it."  
  
Sören clenched his fist and pulled it down, mouthing "yes" and Seumas raised one of his front paws like he was giving a high five. Then Sören cleared his throat. "OK, _takk_ , very good. I'll see you soon."  
  
Karen came by a short while later, twirling the wig around and around on her index finger. Sören gave her a quick hug and a kiss.  
  
"Dare I ask?" Karen handed Sören the wig.  
  
Sören smirked. "Trolling Anthony."  
  
"Figures, but I didn't want to assume." Karen smirked back.  
  
"You can stay if you want, his reaction will be priceless."  
  
"I can't stay long," Karen said, making a face. "On my way to school."  
  
"I know." Sören frowned. "You sound... less than thrilled about going."  
  
"Yeah." Karen looked down at her shoes and sighed, then back up at Sören. "It's... you know. The same doubts I've been having since late last year. I'm trying to tell myself I'm just all discombobulated because of my grandmother's death, but..."  
  
"But." Sören gave her a stern look. "It seems to be more of an identity crisis that was awhile in coming, it just took her death to set it off."  
  
"I guess. I'm a bit old to be having one, though." Karen shrugged. "I'm making myself be an adult and go to school whether I want to or not."  
  
Sören felt that part of being an adult was the freedom to not do things one hated doing if there was a way to stop or avoid it - he remembered his own crisis close to six years ago that sent him from Iceland to England; his life was so radically different from what he'd envisioned - but he held his tongue, not wanting to lecture her. He gave her another hug, which she returned, and he booped her nose.  
  
"Have fun tonight," Karen said as she walked off, waving. "Tell Craig I said hello."  
  
Once Karen was gone, Sören got to work. First he brought the weighted blankets upstairs, with Karen's wig riding on top of the blankets. Anthony's blanket was a deep navy, and Sören's was cerulean. Sören spread out Anthony's weighted blanket on his bed, and then he opened Anthony's wardrobe and fished out George. He turned down the blankets and put George in the bed, next to Karen's wig so it looked like the wigs were cuddling or spooning. He cackled as he pulled up the blanket, and hoped the cats didn't get curious - they were already hovering - before Anthony could see his handiwork.  
  
Anthony and Nicholas got in at the same time. Sören tried to act casual as Nicholas and Anthony had tea, chitchatting about their respective workdays, and Seumas came to love up on Anthony and Tobias came to Nicholas for pettings. When Seumas decided Anthony smelled like him enough, the grey tabby hopped down, trotted over to his food dish, and started eating.  
  
"Finally," Sören said. "He tried to tell me he was starving then when I opened the can he sniffed it and walked away." Seumas rubbed up against Sören's legs then climbed on him to be held and pet. "You're a dick," Sören told Seumas, and got a headbutt. Sören skritched him and kissed the cat's head.  
  
"All cats are dicks," Anthony said, reaching over to give Seumas some pettings.  
  
"And rapscallions," Nicholas added; Sören smiled, he loved it when Nicholas used those old-fashioned words.  
  
"Nya," Seumas said.  
  
Sören handed the cat to Anthony, glancing at the time. Seumas came right back over to Sören and sat on him, as if he knew Sören was going soon and didn't want him to.  
  
"What time are you leaving for Craig's again, seven?" Anthony asked, pulling Seumas back to him as Seumas gave a "nya" of protest.  
  
Sören nodded - it was coming up soon. Craig was coming to pick him up, he had an overnight bag packed and ready to go. "I should go up and get my bag. Oh... come up with me, Anthony, I want to show you something."  
  
Anthony gave Sören a curious look. Nicholas already knew about the blankets - Sören had made him swear secrecy - and Nicholas gave a deadpan look as he sipped his tea, letting them go up.  
  
Anthony and Sören went upstairs and Sören walked into Anthony's room first. He hit the light and Anthony's eyes widened when he saw the new blanket.  
  
"It's weighted," Sören said. "I heard -"  
  
He didn't have to explain. Anthony rested his cane against the wall and leaned on Sören as he gave Sören a fierce, tight hug. At the big smile on Anthony's face, and the feel of Anthony's body against his - the strength and safety of those arms - Sören fought the urge to kiss him, the urge to drag him to the bed and "break in" the new blanket with having sex on it. _That's not what it's for, and you still need to wait, and you need to save your appetite for Craig._  
  
"Thank you so much," Anthony said. "Helen and Edmund both suggested I look into getting a weighted blanket but -"  
  
"I know it's hard to figure out things like how heavy it should be, and material, and all of that," Sören said.  
  
"I also felt a bit, ah." Anthony looked down. "I know you don't like 'all that macho shit', but I felt a bit... self-conscious about ordering a blanket, like I was being a mummy's boy..."  
  
"I get it," Sören said. "But you're not going to refuse it now that it's here, já?"  
  
"Not at all." Anthony smiled again and kissed Sören's cheek. Just that little kiss made Sören start to harden.  
  
"Good." Sören patted him. "Go on, try it." He gestured to the bed and couldn't help the big grin on his face. _Here we go._  
  
Anthony took his cane, walked to the bed, and pulled down the blanket with intent to climb on the bed and get under it. He saw the wigs. Sören began to take pictures with his cell phone, both of the wigs in the bed and Anthony's reaction, and all of it together. Anthony's "WTF" face sent Sören into hysterics, and then Anthony was laughing too, turning bright red and tearing up.  
  
It got worse when Sören reached into his other pocket and produced the kazoo. He began to serenade the wigs with the sax solo from "Careless Whisper" on the kazoo.  
  
"Sören, I swear to god." Anthony doubled over on the bed.  
  
And then there were footsteps running up the stairs - not Nicholas. Craig had apparently just parked and come in to get Sören, rather than Sören meeting him outside, so Nicholas or Anthony wouldn't have to take him down in the lift. Craig stopped in the doorway, his mouth open, as Sören continued playing "Careless Whisper" at the wigs.  
  
"...OK," Craig said, blinking slowly, and then he lost it too.  
  
"Welcome to my world," Anthony said.  
  
"Is this some kind of fetish?" Craig asked.  
  
Anthony laughed even harder and Sören stopped playing for a moment and quipped, "No, the fetish begins when I take out the rubber chicken and the clown nose." Then he resumed playing.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was the one-year anniversary of Craig's overdose and Sören knew that was a painful reminder... but it also meant Craig had been clean for a full year and they thought that was worth celebrating. And so, Craig took Sören out to dinner - an Italian restaurant where they could both wear sweaters and jeans and be comfortable, but nonetheless the food was good and the atmosphere was relaxing. They played footsie under the table and fed each other forkfuls of food and pieces of breadsticks, and as they waited for the check, they moved closer and leaned on each other, holding hands.  
  
It was a romantic mood rather than a sad mood, and Sören's thoughts naturally turned to lust on the drive back to Craig's flat. When he and Craig had begun their dominant/submissive arrangement, even though Craig was mostly a bottom he liked to top occasionally, and Sören had told Craig that if he could maintain sobriety for a year, he would let Craig top him as a reward. The thought of finally feeling Craig inside him was starting to drive Sören out of his mind, hardening in his jeans without even being touched.  
  
It didn't help that Craig was also anticipating it - every now and again he glanced over at Sören and his eyes raked Sören up and down, with a naughty little smirk or a bit lip. Craig also had on a music channel that was playing more seductive music like Sade...  
  
...and then, as they got closer to Craig's flat, "Careless Whisper" started playing. Craig and Sören looked at each other and lost it, and Craig laughed so hard he had to just pull over, tears streaming down his face as Sören took out the kazoo that he still had in his jeans pocket and played along with the sax solo.  
  
"I didn't plan that," Craig said, wiping his eyes. "That just came on randomly." He gave Sören the side eye. "It's almost like you have troll superpowers, or something."  
  
Sören made jazz hands and then continued kazoo accompaniment with the next sax portion.  
  
When they arrived at Craig's flat, they were still giggling. It was starting to rain, and Craig said "race you" and they ran to Craig's flat, laughing all the way. At the door, Sören was a bit breathless from the run and his asthma, and Craig gave him a concerned look and a hug, and as they walked in the hug became a deep, passionate kiss.  
  
They kissed all the way to the couch, and soon they were necking, petting, both of them breathing hard as their hands roamed and their pulses raced.  
  
Just before Craig could undo Sören's jeans, there was a whine from Kylie.  
  
"Oh shit," Craig said. "I've been gone for a bit, she has to go out."  
  
"It's OK," Sören said, nodding. As horny as he was, he understood the dog had needs and he was glad Craig was being a responsible dog parent. He patted Craig and stood up, looking out the window at the rain. "A stroll in the rain will be nice, anyway."  
  
There was, indeed, something romantic about them walking through Craig's neighborhood together, hand-in-hand in the rainy night, huddled together under an umbrella, with the golden glow of the streetlamps shining through the rain and mist. As Kylie did her business, Craig turned to face Sören and they hugged under the umbrella and kissed.  
  
"I'm so proud of you," Sören husked.  
  
Craig grinned. "Hi So Proud Of You."  
  
Sören gave him a playful swat. "Brat."  
  
"That's why we get on so well." Craig kissed the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
"But seriously." Sören kissed him back. "A full year."  
  
"It feels good to be alive," Craig said, looking over at Kylie and back at Sören. "I feel less like a hopeless wreck now. Like I'm finally on the right path. And you helped a lot."  
  
"Well, I can't take credit for your sobriety," Sören said. "Every time you've had the urge to use, you've powered through it. That's hard work, that's on _you._ " Sören tapped his chest. "I'm just here as your cheerleader."  
  
"Oh, are you getting a sexy little costume?" Craig grinned.  
  
Sören swatted his ass. He couldn't resist trolling Craig a little too. "What do you think the wigs are for? And the impending rubber chicken, and clown nose."  
  
"Oh my fucking _god._ " Craig facepalmed, laughing.  
  
Then their eyes met, and held. "I'm not giving you credit for my sobriety or anything, I... you know." Craig nodded. "But you still have been a huge help, and I'm grateful for that."  
  
It started raining harder as they hugged and kissed again. Sören looked up at the umbrella and got the sudden urge to sing.  
  
 _When the sun shine, we shine together  
Told you I'll be here forever  
Said I'll always be your friend  
Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end  
Now that it's raining more than ever  
Know that we'll still have each other  
You can stand under my umbrella  
You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh  
Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh_  
  
"Awwwwwwwww," Craig said. He hugged Sören tighter. "I'm here for you too."  
  
Kylie came running back to Craig once she was done - splashing through puddles on the way, then shaking off onto both of them. Craig facepalmed again, shaking with silent laughter. He looked down at his jeans and shook his head. "Thanks, dog," he said.  
  
Kylie barked and then made a happy face, tongue lolling.  
  
"It could be worse," Sören said.  
  
"You better not say 'people are dying, Craig' again."  
  
Sören snorted. He booped Craig's nose, and then, feeling trollishly playful, he stepped out from the umbrella and began to jump in the puddles like an overgrown child. It was fun. After a moment Craig joined him and they splashed around together, laughing, not caring that they looked ridiculous, two grown men hopping in puddles. Kylie ran back into the puddles again.  
  
When they got back in the flat, Kylie did another wet dog shake, flinging water everywhere, while Craig looked at their sopping clothes.  
  
"We'd better... you know. Get our clothes off," Sören said with a smirk.  
  
"Capital idea," Craig said. He began to undress right there.  
  
Even though they were both horny again, Craig was once again a responsible adult and took their wet clothes to the washer-dryer in his pantry, while Sören waited on the bed, stroking himself. Once the laundry was started, Craig came back in the bedroom, naked. He licked his lips at the sight of Sören naked and hard for him.  
  
"Do you want to take a shower with me?" Craig asked. "I feel like a drowned rat, I might as well get clean."  
  
Sören loved showering with lovers, so he eagerly followed Craig into the shower. As the steam rose, so did the heat between them, sensually lathering each other, hands teasing sensitive flesh as they kissed, hard cocks rubbing together.  
  
They continued kissing and caressing on the way to the bed, and when they got on the bed they just held each other for a moment, rocking together.  
  
"So proud of you," Sören whispered, petting him. "So, so proud of you." He kissed Craig's forehead. "My good boy."  
  
Craig moaned softly; Sören smiled, knowing how much he loved that. Craig loved Sören calling him that, like Sören loved Nicholas calling him that.  
  
Sören touched Craig's face, looking into his eyes, then his fingers slid down to lovingly trace the defibrillator scars on Craig's chest. He leaned in and kissed them reverently. "I'm glad you're still here."  
  
"So am I," Craig said. He gave a shuddery little breath, and Sören came up, seeing the tears in his eyes. Craig swallowed hard and he said, "After I heard about Justin's death in the news... I was relieved, like I said last week, and then I felt like a terrible person for wishing death on someone and..."  
  
"And that's when the overdose happened."  
  
Craig nodded. He closed his eyes and tears spilled down his cheeks. "It wasn't an accidental overdose, Sören. I just wanted the pain to stop -"  
  
"Oh _god._ " Sören's heart broke for him. He pulled Craig close and held him tight, rocking harder. Craig sobbed, and so did Sören, crying with him. "I'm so sorry," Sören said, his voice shaking. "I am so, so sorry that happened to you."  
  
"I didn't know he was a monster, you know, when we first..." Craig couldn't make himself say it. "The abuse didn't happen till later."  
  
Sören nodded. "Most abusers don't wear a sign saying HI I'M A SOCIOPATH. They're very good at being charming, making you think they're nice people." Sören thought of Trisha and the "accidental haircut". All of the passive-aggressive jabs for months. He thought of the facade his aunt Katrín put on to the world, and how vicious she was behind closed doors.  
  
"I still feel like an idiot. I mean, he wasn't a saint. He was using too -"  
  
"Still. You're not an idiot, Craig."  
  
Craig sobbed harder.  
  
Sören stroked his hair. "Do you need me to just hold you tonight? I'm totally fine with that. We don't need to have sex if you just want to snuggle. I like snuggles."  
  
Craig shook his head. "No, I've been looking forward to our night for days." Their eyes met again and Craig smiled through his tears. Then he took Sören's hand, kissed it, and his voice was soft as he said, "I want to feel you."  
  
Sören took Craig's face and kissed him deeply, touched by those words. Then he silently rose and opened Craig's bedtable drawer, where he kept the leash and collar that Craig had given him. Craig obediently knelt, and Sören put the collar around Craig's neck, then hooked the leash through. Craig rose and rejoined him on the bed. Sören lay back, tugging on the leash, pulling Craig atop him.  
  
For a little while they continued kissing, caressing, hard cocks grinding together. Sören began to kiss Craig's neck and his breath hitched, and the moan Craig gave when Sören nibbled his shoulder made Sören's cock throb, wanting. He had Craig lean over him and began to lick and suck a pierced nipple, while his thumb rubbed the other, fingers occasionally pulling a nipple ring gently. Craig gasped and moaned, and then he looked down at Sören and grinned. " _Fuck_ ," he said, laughing a little, wonder in his eyes.  
  
"I told you they'd be more sensitive now." Sören's tongue swirled around a nipple before he suckled the hard nub back into his mouth, then gave a little tug with his teeth before turning his attention to the other, lapping fast, then slower. "Looks so fucking hot, too." The hand holding the leash played with the nipple he'd first sucked on, as he feasted on the other. Craig's moans got louder and he rubbed against Sören more insistently.  
  
Sören went back and forth between his nipples, savoring the sound of Craig's moans and cries, the look of pleasure on his face as Sören teased and teased. Craig was panting for it, and Sören wanted it too, but didn't give in just yet, continuing to lavish love on his nipples for as long as Craig could stand it, until Craig whined and began to beg, "Oh god, Sören, please. _Please_..."  
  
Sören chuckled. He patted Craig's ass. "I'll suck on something else now, help get it ready for me."  
  
Craig scooted up and straddled Sören's shoulders, his cock in Sören's face. Sören sucked him hungrily, deep-throating, and Craig watched, groaning, hot lust in his eyes. Then a few moments later Sören took Craig's cock out of his mouth, playfully tapped the head against his tongue to make a show of collecting the precum, before drawing the head back into his mouth, sucking more slowly as his hand rubbed up and down the shaft. Craig moaned, eyes fluttering, moaning louder as Sören reached to cup and gently rub the balls. "Mmmmmm," Sören moaned with his mouth full, rubbing his tongue as he sucked. "Mmmmmhmmmm."  
  
Sören pulled the cock out of his mouth to lick it, long, deliberate strokes and then faster, harder, bathing it with his tongue. Craig's breath came out in shuddery gasps, trembling as precum dripped down his shaft. Sören's tongue swirled around and around the head, before he sucked on it some more, humming his pleasure as he sucked, worked his tongue. "Mmmmmm."  
  
"Sören. God. Sören..."  
  
Sören took the cock out and licked up the flowing precum. "Such a good boy. My good boy is going to get a nice reward..."  
  
"Yes. _Please._ I need it." Their eyes met. "I need you."  
  
That confession - that _surrender_ \- made Sören's cock leap. His mouth let go of Craig's cock and he tapped Craig's hips. "Now you can get me ready for you," Sören said.  
  
Craig knew what that meant; they were fresh from the shower. Craig kissed and licked his way down Sören's body, making Sören moan, making him ache to be filled, taken. Craig parted Sören's thighs and spent awhile kissing and nibbling them, making Sören crazy, until at last his tongue circled around the rim of Sören's opening, and plunged inside. Sören cried out as Craig began licking that sweet spot inside him, slowly at first then faster, harder, growling a little as he devoured.  
  
"Oh god, that's so good." Sören shuddered and tugged on the leash a little. "Good boy..."  
  
Craig groaned and began to shake his head as he licked, the motion teasing Sören even more. Sören cried out and Craig groaned again, and Sören laughed as he watched Craig's shoulder and arm shaking, knowing he was stroking himself as he ate. "Does my good boy like that?" Sören purred.  
  
Craig stopped licking for a moment. "Yes." He took a few licks around Sören's opening. "I could do this to you every day..."  
  
Sören moaned. His mind ran wild with debauched fantasies of him, Nicholas, Anthony and Craig living together, having sensual, hot foursomes. He pushed that hope out of his mind, delicious as it was, and focused on the intense blue eyes looking at him with worship, like he was the only thing in the world as the tongue dipped back inside him, lashing away. Sören lost himself in the pleasure of Craig's tongue, the sexiness of those eyes watching his reactions, drinking him in.  
  
Finally Sören pulled on the leash. "Now," he commanded. "I want you now."  
  
"Yes." Craig came up eagerly. They kissed; the taste wasn't offensive. Sören collected some of the precum flowing from his own cock and stuck his fingers in Craig's mouth and his cock throbbed again as he watched Craig suck his fingers, eyes narrowed with lust. When he pulled his fingers out of Craig's mouth, Craig licked them clean, and Sören's hole twitched now too, aching for him.  
  
Craig reached down to collect his own precum, and his precum-slick fingers entered Sören's passage as they kissed, playing with the magic spot inside him. Sören reached for the lube, hands caressing Craig's body, wanting to feel his lover completely. Craig poured lube onto his fingers and put them back inside Sören, and Sören started fucking himself on Craig's fingers, wanting it. Craig groaned, and again as Sören poured lube over his cock, working it in.  
  
"How do you want it?" Sören asked between kisses.  
  
"I want to look into your eyes," Craig said.  
  
Sören grabbed a pillow and repositioned himself, laying on his back again but this time with his hips propped up by the pillow, to make it easier. Craig settled between Sören's thighs and began to push in, inch by inch. When he was all the way in their eyes locked and Sören gave the leash a little tug, enjoying the way Craig fit to him.  
  
"Good boy," Sören said.  
  
Craig began to thrust, slowly and gently at first, trying to make himself savor, but that didn't last long as he got into it - pent up from not having topped in over a year - and Sören rocked his hips back at Craig, matching his rhythm, moaning at the feel of Craig's cock rubbing inside him just right. "That's a good boy," Sören growled, playing with the leash. "Such a good boy..."  
  
"Oh god, yes." Craig shuddered.  
  
"Does my good boy like his reward?"  
  
"Yes. _Fuck_ , yes..."  
  
"Mmmmm." Sören bucked underneath him harder, and let out a moan as his body melted to Craig's cock, the delicious rhythm of their fuck, the sight of Craig slamming into him, giving into his animal side. "My good boy has such a good cock."  
  
" _Sören._ " Craig growled. "Fuck, Sören..."  
  
"That's it, baby. Let me have it. Show me what a good boy you are..."  
  
Craig gave a cry before he grabbed Sören's leg and propped it on his shoulder, giving Sören a fierce look that was almost a snarl, pounding into him even harder. Now Sören cried out, fists gripping the sheets, loving it. He played with the leash, urging him on. "Just like that, baby. Just like that, good boy. Take it. Take your reward. Fuck me..."  
  
"Oh _fuck._ " Craig shuddered. "I'm so close..."  
  
Sören guided Craig's hand to his cock, and Craig began to stroke Sören's cock furiously. Soon Sören was right there too, desperate for release but wanting to stay lost in their fuck, the heat, the passion. Their eyes met and they came together, crying out. Craig let out another cry as Sören's seed splashed over his chest and stomach, and Sören groaned at the way Craig quivered, the feel of Craig shooting into him again.  
  
Craig came down into Sören's arms and they nuzzled and kissed deeply. "How's that?" Sören asked.  
  
"God." Craig laughed, his entire face lit up with joy. Sören couldn't help grinning back, stroking Craig's cheek, loving the happiness. "That was even better than I'd fantasized about." He kissed Sören again and husked, "Even hotter."  
  
"Mmmmmmm." They kissed again. "You're a good fuck." Sören nibbled on Craig's lower lip and then booped his nose. "And a good boy."  
  
Craig sighed happily and snuggled into Sören's shoulder. "I love you so much."  
  
Sören's arms tightened around him. "I love you too."  
  
For a little while they lay there like that, snuggling, legs braided, listening to the rain fall. They dozed off, and came to with sleepy kisses that roused them both. Soon their tongues were playing together between kisses, and their cocks were hard again, cock rubbing cock.  
  
"Does my good boy want to fuck me again?" Sören asked.  
  
Craig nodded, looking so eager that it made Sören laugh.  
  
This time Sören rolled onto his stomach, thrusting his ass out at Craig. While it was a submissive position usually, he was still the one in charge, holding the leash. And as Craig took him again Sören pulled on the leash, slamming his hips back at Craig as hard as he could, challenging his boy to keep up. "That's it. Fuck me. Show me whose boy you are."  
  
"Oh god." Craig let out a little whine as he grabbed Sören's hips, thrusting even harder. "God, I want you..."  
  
"Take it." Sören played with the leash. "Fuck me." It was a command.  
  
And Craig obeyed, above and beyond the call of duty, pleasing them both with each powerful thrust. So strong, so vital. Each stroke reminding them both Craig was alive, had come so far from a year ago. He was seizing life by the horns just as Sören was seizing Craig by the leash. And it was glorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seumas is based on one of my and [Detergent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/detergent/pseuds/detergent)'s cats (the IRL version has a different name) and yes, _he really is that much of a dick_.


	35. Valley of Decision

On the morning of Friday, April first, Anthony woke up like any other morning - Seumas got him up before the alarm did, and Anthony spent a few minutes holding and petting the cat before heading to the bathroom to do his business and shower. After he changed he went downstairs. Sören had worked overnight and had gotten in not long before Anthony woke up, and Anthony knew Nicholas was planning on getting up earlier than usual to spend some extra time with Sören, so seeing them both downstairs was not a surprise.  
  
What was a surprise was that as Anthony made his way downstairs, halfway down there was a large white cottonball, the size used to remove makeup, on each step. And when Anthony was down, Sören and Nicholas were sitting in the living room drinking coffee, completely casual and deadpan, and there was a trail of cottonballs from the steps to the couch they were sitting on. A pile of cottonballs on the coffee table. A pile of cottonballs on an arm of the couch they were sitting on. Another pile of cottonballs on an empty couch. A smaller pile of cottonballs on an armchair. More cottonballs on the kitchen counter. Cottonballs in the sink.  
  
"Er," Anthony said.  
  
"Good morning," Nicholas said, and took a sip of coffee, completely nonchalant.  
  
"What..." Anthony blinked. "What in the world..."  
  
It was April first, so he knew this was some sort of prank - it was surprising Nicholas seemed in on it too - and then Tobias trotted over with a cottonball in his mouth and deposited it at his feet with a "Prrrp?"  
  
Anthony looked down at the single cottonball, and then at Nicholas and Sören, who were starting to lose it a little, and he put his free hand on his hip.  
  
"You don't recognize your own grandchildren?" Sören gave him a stern look that wasn't stern at all, eyes full of mischief.  
  
It took a few seconds and then it registered, Anthony remembering George cuddling up with what was likely Karen's old wig under his weighted blanket, Sören playing "Careless Whisper" on the kazoo. The sketch Sören had made for him when their relationship was new, of wigs breeding babies that looked like fluffy white Tribbles. With Anthony's free hand he facepalmed, groaning loudly. "Jesus _Christ_ , Sören."  
  
Sören began snickering loudly and Nicholas chuckled too. "I can't believe you're in on this," Anthony said to Nicholas.  
  
"I do have a sense of humor," Nicholas said.  
  
"You guys are nuts," Anthony said, walking to the kitchen to get coffee, but he couldn't help laughing too now, tickled by the old joke resurfacing years later.  
  
" _Takk_ ," Sören said.  
  
 _And this is why I love you._ Anthony gave a little sigh, feeling that wistful ache again.  
  
When Anthony's coffee was ready he carried it into the living room and sat down. Seumas climbed on his shoulder - he was going to have to use the lint roller again to remove cat hair before he went to work - and Anthony took it all in, the cotton balls, the way Nicholas and Sören were "acting normal" in their midst, and he had to put the coffee down, laughing too hard. "Goddammit," he wheezed.  
  
Sören's face lit up. That didn't help the ache.  
  
Then Nicholas put an arm around Sören and said, "Anthony, just to inform you, Sören and I are going out to dinner this evening. We would normally invite you but -"  
  
"No, I get it, you want couple time." Anthony couldn't deny that it stung a little - especially now that he knew he wanted them both, and didn't think Nicholas would ever be interested - but they had a right to spend time alone together.  
  
"There should be things to eat in the kitchen, such as last night's leftovers, or bread and cheese and meat for sandwiches if you don't want to have the same meal two nights in a row."  
  
"Thank you," Anthony said, nodding. The evening would be a bit lonely - Geir was spending time with Pierre, he knew, keeping Pierre company while Ben was on tour, since Pierre couldn't up and leave his job for a couple of months to follow him - but he'd manage.  
  
"No wild parties with your grand...balls," Sören said just as Anthony was taking a sip of coffee.  
  
Anthony almost spat. He had to put the coffee down, the twinge of angst melting away in an explosion of laughter. " _Sören._ "  
  
  
_  
  
  
At the office, when Anthony opened his briefcase to review files before court, he found more cottonballs in his briefcase. And when he opened one of his desk drawers, there was a pile of cottonballs inside. Anthony opened all the desk drawers that weren't locked and saw cottonballs in each of them. He took pictures with his cell phone.  
  
His executive assistant Diana was driving him to court, and he gave her the side eye. "How much did he pay you to do that?" Anthony asked, meaning Sören and the cottonballs.  
  
"Do what?" Diana gave him a mock innocent face.  
  
Anthony raised an eyebrow and produced a cottonball from his briefcase.  
  
Diana smirked as her attention returned to the road. "He didn't pay me. He didn't have to." She grinned. "Your reaction is payment enough."  
  
They laughed together, and Anthony was still laughing after he donned his wig and robes and made his way into the court.  
  
The prank turned out to be somewhat useful - this case was more stressful than usual, and Anthony needed to keep his cool and not get noticeably angry or upset, and thinking of the wigs and the cottonballs helped to calm him down as emotions ran high. The world was crazy, but Sören's Sören-ness was his constant.  
  
On break, Anthony thought about texting Karen a picture, since her wig was partly "responsible", but then upon further reflection he thought it would be better for her to see it in-person - she didn't have school this evening - and it would keep him from feeling too alone in the evening while Sören and Nicholas were out, and help him to further dial back the stress from today's court battle. Anthony was still a little shy about initiating hangouts, but nonetheless he sent Karen a text. _Want to come over tonight? Sören and Nicholas are going out to dinner and I could use some company._  
  
A few minutes later Karen responded with _Sure! Is six-thirty fine?_  
  
 _Works for me._  
  
At six-thirty Karen let herself in. She stopped to pet Tobias and Seumas, then she came over to give Anthony a hug. Then before she sat down she finally noticed the cottonballs everywhere and her face registered shock, then hilarity. Anthony took pictures with his cell phone to show Sören, knowing he'd appreciate it.  
  
Karen was still in hysterics as she sat down, looking at the cottonballs next to her. "What..."  
  
"Sören," Anthony said. He passed his phone over so Karen could see the pictures of his briefcase and desk drawer at the office, then he showed her pictures he'd saved to the gallery on his phone that Sören had sent him of the wigs cuddling, and himself losing it at the wigs. Anthony snickered. "We're grandparents now."  
  
Karen also snickered. "God. You know, he asked to borrow my wig and I told him he could just have it. I knew he was up to shenanigans but I didn't realize..." She laughed harder, not able to finish the sentence.  
  
"We need a support group," Anthony said, chuckling fondly.  
  
"Yes. Yes we do." And then Karen sighed as she leaned back. "I needed that laugh, thank you."  
  
"I do too. Court was... well, you know. Court."  
  
"Mhm." Karen nodded, with a small frown. "Retail was... retail." Karen shook her head. "Today was another one of those days where I seriously thought about just quitting, walking off."  
  
"I'm sorry." Anthony was glad he never had experience with working in a shop. Law could be stressful - his profession had a disproportionately high rate of drug and alcohol abuse for that reason; the suicide rate was also high - but he thought retail was a special kind of hell, and he tried to be nice to shop employees, knowing they put up with rude, demanding customers all day. "I guess it's a good thing I invited you over, then?"  
  
"Very prescient." Karen glanced over at the kitchen. "What would you like to do for dinner? Would you like to call for delivery, or perhaps I could make something?"  
  
Anthony felt a little guilty about the idea of Karen cooking, not wanting to use her as a kitchen servant, that wasn't why he'd invited her over. "Oh... there's leftovers from last night, Nicholas made a big pot of beef bourguignon. There's also stuff to make sandwiches -"  
  
"Well, if you're not in the mood to have the same thing twice, I could make us sandwiches, that actually sounds good. I've been so stressed out from work this week that my stomach has been acting up, a light dinner like sandwiches would be easier on my system."  
  
"I can make it -"  
  
"It'll give me something to distract myself with. Besides, I don't mind waiting on _you._ You're nice." Karen grinned. "Sometimes."  
  
With that, Karen went to the kitchen and proceeded to make turkey-and-Swiss-on-rye sandwiches, chuckling at the cottonballs flooding the kitchen. But even with her laughter, Anthony could see her body language was tense, and when the laughter faded, the crease in her brow returned. Anthony felt bad for her... and he was worried, remembering that she'd told him awhile back she'd gotten very sick from stress in her barrister days, and GI disturbance was one of the problems she'd reported. He hoped this wasn't a resurgence.  
  
When she brought him his sandwiches and sat down next to him on the couch, Anthony put a hand on her arm for a moment, a reassuring gesture. "Are you OK?"  
  
"Not really." Karen sighed. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"  
  
Anthony shook his head. Then he leaned back, propping himself on one elbow on the arm of the couch, studying her. "You might as well tell me what it is."  
  
"Well..." Karen took a few bites of sandwich, gathering her words. Finally she said, "It's work, mostly."  
  
"As you know."  
  
"As you know." Karen chuckled; Nicholas's verbal tic would never not be funny to them. "I started to get fed up with my job before the holidays last year, and while it's not _as bad_ as it was the holiday season, it's still bad."  
  
"The silver lining is you won't be working there forever. Once you have your degree..."  
  
"Then I start working as a librarian and dealing with the public all over again. I imagine that the people who come in to use the library aren't all going to be as... spoilt, entitled, bossy... as the people who have money to burn on tea sets and... golden pineapples." Karen gestured to the googly-eye wearing pineapple and chuckled before sobering again. "But there is a reason why customer service is considered valid background experience for this sort of job, and... I'm increasingly dreading that. I'm starting to think I made a terrible mistake, that I wasted all this time for -" Karen couldn't finish the sentence. She looked down, scowling.  
  
Now Anthony patted her. They ate their sandwiches as Anthony considered his response. It was obvious Karen was miserable at her job, enough that it was making her ill, and when she had her degree she was worried that she'd be going into a similar set of problems with her new career. He knew that her walking away was non-trivial, and yet, it seemed like the only sane course of action. But he had to have all the evidence before he could make a case, and he had a feeling it wasn't all there yet. "Is there anything else going on? Besides the obvious of getting fed up dealing with the public, which is quite understandable. It seems to me that after the time invested in your schooling and feeling like this _now_ , it's not simply that you're concerned it will be like retail all over again."  
  
"My dad is at me to move back to Sheffield again," she said. "If I quit my job, and I walk away from school, I'm... going to need at least a little time to reboot my life, and I can't exactly afford that with the rent and other expenses with the flat. My parents are offering to let me stay with them rent-free while I figure things out."  
  
"That's very generous of them," Anthony said. "Though I imagine it's not a suitable permanent arrangement."  
  
"No, it's barely suitable as a temporary arrangement. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and I have a good relationship with them, but my mum can be a bit overbearing."  
  
Anthony snorted. "Something else we have in common."  
  
"Yeah, I think our mums would be friends if they met." Karen gave a wry smile before frowning again.  
  
"But you're... considering the offer."  
  
Karen nodded. "I already talked to Geir about it and he said he won't be angry if I do, he's worried about me too and he wants me to be happy. But I still feel guilty about leaving him behind. And not just him, but all of you. Especially Sören."  
  
"Well..." Anthony gave her more pats. "Look, Karen, you _know_ Sören. He would also want what's best for you. It's not like Sheffield is another country, you could still visit each other from time to time."  
  
"Maybe, but his schedule is already busy enough without having to take time to travel or clear time when I'm coming down, to keep a relationship going. You and I both know that if I leave central London, Sören and I are probably finished, just because we can't make it work with that kind of distance."  
  
Anthony felt a twinge of sadness. He remembered he was once so _jealous_ when he saw Sören kissing Karen in the bookstore all those months ago, but he'd come to accept their relationship, and in a way, it helped him and Karen bond over something in common, their mutual love of the ridiculous Icelander with the burning heart. He knew that if Karen was even remotely considering a move that would realistically end her relationship with someone she dearly loved, her stress must be severe indeed. He knew it wouldn't be easy for Karen, missing Sören, and feeling like she'd broken his heart. And though he also knew Sören would be willing to let her go because he loved generously enough to want her to be happy, even if that wasn't with him, he also knew it wouldn't be easy for Sören either, especially because Sören already had abandonment issues, no small thanks to him.  
  
Anthony would also be a little sad because he'd come to think of Karen as the little sister he never had, loving her in a platonic way. They could keep in touch, and it might be doable to visit in-person once or twice a year, but Anthony had gotten used to seeing his friend on a regular basis and it would hurt for her to be so far away, especially when she was one of the first real friends he'd made after his old group of "friends" ghosted him. But he, too, was not selfish enough to insist that she stay for his sake.  
  
And that was why Anthony wanted to encourage her to go, but he still felt he needed more evidence before he could present that argument. "Sören would still want what was best for you, Karen."  
  
"Is it, though?"  
  
"I think you already know the answer to that." Anthony put his plate down and folded his hands on his lap. "You told me not that long ago that you've been having stomach issues all week. You got really ill when you were a barrister, from stress. This is going down the same path."  
  
"I don't know what path I want to take," Karen said. "That's the problem."  
  
"Do you have _any_ idea of what you want? Even a little clue?"  
  
Karen sighed. She took another moment to think, eating her sandwich, while Anthony waited for her response before working on his some more. Finally Karen said, "My mum never forced me to become a barrister, but I felt... pushed... towards a 'real career'..." She made air quotes. "Because she hadn't gotten to have one. She has one now, working at an art gallery, but... her generation and her class, she didn't get the kind of education and training that she should have had with her intelligence. So I felt like I had to do double duty, something for myself _and_ her. And of course, law didn't work out."  
  
"That's a mild way of putting it."  
  
Karen nodded. She went on, "I didn't really have a life when I was a barrister. You know how it is. You managed to work around it, but you thrive on the adrenaline more than I do. So I didn't really get time for a social life, or relationships. My downtime from work was recuperating. I was just... utterly consumed by my job."  
  
"Yes, and that's no way to live."  
  
"I think I've swung to the extreme opposite. I have real, meaningful connections. Good friends. A lover. A family of choice, who I would fight and die for. But that's the problem. I feel like I'm drowning. It's not their fault, it's just..." Karen brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Every single one of you has found your place in this world, your purpose, your niche. You and law. Sören and medicine. Nicholas and Pierre and teaching. Ben and the theatre. Geir and the flute. Hell, even _Craig_ is on his way to doing something he's passionate about, and almost none of us thought a year ago he'd survive this long, let alone do this well. And I hate saying this because it sounds... mean-spirited? But I feel like less of a fuckup than Craig Fetherstonhaugh, right now, and that's a tall order."  
  
"You're not a fuckup, Karen." _Neither is Craig._ Anthony found himself bristling at Karen's words, almost like a parent who had heard another parent say something rude about his child, and as much as _he_ hated thinking it, feeling disloyal to his friend, he wondered how much of the "Craig is a fuckup" attitude got internalized and contributed to Craig's second decline. He held his tongue, telling himself nobody was perfect and not everyone would word things perfectly all the time, trying to push himself back in "supportive friend" mode.  
  
"No, but I'm going to be thirty-two in September and I feel like I'm too old for this shit."  
  
"You're not," Anthony said. "Plenty of people change their career in their thirties. Quite honestly, the push to make people in their early twenties figure out what they want to do for the rest of their lives forever and ever, amen, with no change, when they haven't had much life experience yet, haven't figured themselves out, whilst society coddles people like children when they're well into their late teens and early twenties... probably contributes to why the world is the way it is right now."  
  
"You figured out what you wanted to do with yourself when you were a teenager."  
  
"I was the exception to the rule, and that experience was informed by trauma that I wouldn't wish on other people." Anthony tried not to think of his uncle's death, or the days when he was bullied and ganged up on, and his uncle was one of the very few people in his life to offer him sympathy rather than act like he needed to "man up". "And we're not talking about me right now. We're talking about you."  
  
"OK, fair." Karen exhaled sharply. She finished her sandwich and put her plate down. Seumas came over from the cat tree, sleepy from a nap. "Do you have any thoughts?"  
  
"I do - Seumas NO." Anthony glared at his cat, who absconded with a piece of turkey from Anthony's sandwich. Karen laughed. Then Anthony laughed too, shaking his head. "Damn cat."  
  
When they calmed down, Anthony said, "Well, I guess Seumas sort of illustrated that answer which is... seize the opportunity presented you."  
  
"Moving back to Sheffield?"  
  
Anthony nodded slowly, reluctantly. "Look. I think your assessment that you've gone from one extreme to the other - from being too career-oriented, to being too others-oriented - is accurate. You need to find balance between the two. You weren't happy when your entire life revolved around your job and you had no room for connections with other people, but you also aren't happy with taking a path you're unsure about so you can have a career that you fit around your social life. It sounds to me that when you left law, you looked for the safe option, but just like you weren't a good fit for law because too much adrenaline, it seems to me that you're not a good fit for being a librarian because it's not enough of a challenge. And that leads me to the other point. You mentioned just now feeling like the odd one out because you haven't really figured out your life yet, or you thought you had it figured out and are rethinking it. There's a saying and it's a cliche but it's true: _birds of a feather flock together._ I wish I'd realized this sooner about my group of ex-friends, that maybe the reason why more obvious jerks like Steve were tolerated was because they were _all_ jerks, the rest of them were just better at concealing it. Here, with all of us... we all feel like we have a higher calling in some way. You haven't pursued yours yet but you know, deep down, you have one. You shouldn't compromise with being so absorbed in your work that you have no room for others. But you also shouldn't compromise with letting others keep you from finding your way. Once you've found your way, truly, it will all come together somehow."  
  
Karen listened, and there was a long silence. Anthony finished his sandwich, and Seumas came back, looking for more turkey, sniffing the empty plates. Finally he hopped up on Anthony, who held him and stroked him, and when Seumas began to purr, Karen nodded. "You're right," Karen said. "The problem is I don't know what I want to do."  
  
"Well, you seem pretty sure what you _don't_ want to do, and maybe there are clues there. You were drawn to the idea of becoming a librarian as the safe option, but also maybe there's something _like that_ which led you to believe it was the way but it wasn't quite the way, it bore a resemblance."  
  
Karen nodded again. "Honestly there are times when I wish that instead of curating what other people have written and preserved... that I was the one creating those histories. Like instead of curating books and articles about events observed... maybe I was the one writing about what I was seeing, or talking to the people involved."  
  
"So a journalist, then."  
  
"My father's a journalist." Karen scowled. "I didn't want to go into the same line of work because I worried I wouldn't measure up somehow -"  
  
"I think he'd just support you. As one writer to another, he'd probably acknowledge your style doesn't have to be the same as his."  
  
"I hope you're right." Karen gave Seumas some pets. "I need time to think. I know you're going to say 'it sounds like your mind has been made up' but no... it hasn't, really. It's a big step, to leave central London and go back to Sheffield. To only see you guys once in a great while... the probability it won't work with Sören long-distance. It's a big step to quit my job, quit school, and figure out how to go about the process of becoming a journalist. Maybe if I can just muddle through another month..."  
  
"You're suffering _now_ ," Anthony said, "and I feel something's got to give before you put yourself in the hospital with an ulcer or something like it. Don't take too long."  
  
"No, but it's not a snap decision that can be made overnight either."  
  
"No, I'm not saying that. But if you think you can handle another month... take a month to think about it, and reach a decision the first week of May. Does that sound reasonable?"  
  
"It does."  
  
"Nya," Seumas said, like he agreed.  
  
"OK," Karen said to the cat. "If you insist."  
  
"Nya."  
  
Anthony chuckled and skritched the cat. "Good boy." Seumas purred harder.  
  
Then Seumas began to wriggle, which meant he wanted to get up from Anthony's arms. Instead of getting down from the couch, he walked over onto Karen, and Karen began petting him. But then Seumas turned around, showing Karen his ass, and started wiggling his butt and just as Anthony yelled "Seumas NO" the cat started pissing on Karen's sweater and jeans.  
  
"Oh my fucking god." Anthony took the cat and put him on the floor. He got up on his cane and moved as quickly as he could to the kitchen to wet some towels and get the fabric spray. "Karen, I am so, so bloody sorry. He's not normally like that. He usually uses his box."  
  
"Usually."  
  
"He's peed outside it a couple of times to express dissatisfaction, like when we moved the cats' food dish to clean the kitchen. He's probably arsemad there was no more turkey, that we didn't make a sandwich for him." Anthony came back, mortified, and Karen wiped up and sprayed what she could. "I... I can buy you new laundry soap, or a new outfit if..."  
  
Karen put up a hand and chuckled, though she gave the cat the side-eye. "It's fine. It's not your fault. He's a cat, and cats do what they want. Does make me wonder if he's trying to tell me to get out, though."  
  
Anthony snorted. "Seumas, are you being a dick?"  
  
"Nya," Seumas said, and gave a smug smile.  
  
"Well, I'd stay longer but I go home and should put this right in the wash," Karen said, getting up.  
  
"God, Karen, I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's OK, Anthony. It's not the end of the world." Karen patted him.  
  
"Thank you for coming over? And... thanks for the sandwiches." Anthony gave a shy little smile, wanting to crawl under the couch and die. "And... I hope I helped a little?"  
  
"You did. I'll give it a month to think over, and let you know what I decide on May first or within a few days of that." Karen headed for the door, and then she paused and said, "Anthony, do me a favor?"  
  
"About?"  
  
"Don't tell Sören."  
  
"...About the cat pee?" Anthony snickered.  
  
"No, not that. I meant... the conversation we had just now. I'd like to make my decision without outside influence beyond the talk we just had, I'm not saying Sören would pressure me into staying or leaving, but..."  
  
"I get it. But you do realize that Sören has trust issues, and doesn't really want me keeping things from him. I'm going to feel like an arsehole if you decide to leave in a month and he asks me if I knew and I say 'yes, and I didn't tell you'."  
  
"I can take the heat for that, Anthony."  
  
"That's not the point." Anthony felt another bristle of irritation. _You get the get-out-of-jail-free card if you're leaving. I have to live with him._ "The point is I have enough respect for him that I don't want to lie by omission about the probability that his girlfriend is leaving within the next month or two."  
  
Karen sighed. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. That made Anthony even more irritated - he didn't want this to end on a sour note, but he found himself getting increasingly annoyed that she seemed to not understand how withholding information had potential to hurt his relationship with Sören all over again; it wasn't even so much the cheating that had torn them apart, as the dishonesty involved. But then Karen nodded. "OK. You can tell him whatever you think is _necessary_ about the talk we've had, but if you do tell him I'm considering options, please also tell him to refrain from talking with me about it before I've reached a decision, because it's something I need to decide on my own."  
  
"Fair." Anthony was going to go to her and give her a hug before the little blip with the honesty issue, but now he wasn't particularly in the mood. "Have a good night, Karen."  
  
"You too." Karen waved, and she was gone.  
  
"Nya," Seumas said.  
  
Anthony sighed and rubbed his face. He didn't know how Sören was going to take this, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. He just hoped that Sören's abandonment issues didn't flare so hard that he started pushing everyone away. He remembered the tail end of their relationship, when Sören was under so much stress that he just started shutting down and shutting out when he came home - if he wasn't asleep he was absorbed in his art, lost in his own private internal landscape, not wanting to be disturbed. Then he remembered the dreams he had of "before" or whatever the hell it was, where he had gone into exile with other-Sören, but then as things fell apart worse and worse, other-Sören had pushed him away. _Go. Go back home._ As cold as the ice and snow they wandered through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat Seumas is based on IS that much of a dick.


	36. C'est La Vie

On Sunday, May first, the family had their usual dinner, minus Ben who was still on tour with the West End cast of _Oklahoma!_ For the first time in close to a month, Sören had the entire evening free, as opposed to working until later in the evening. And though Karen seemed happy to see him, Sören was familiar enough with her body language and the sort of energy she gave off to know she was carrying a weight on her shoulders, there was a discomfort and a distance to her like she was anticipating a difficult conversation.  
  
As the group settled around the living room for the standard after-Sunday-dinner movie and board game, it became even more apparent, like Karen was watching the room more closely to see when was the right time to jump in, and Sören braced himself. _Oh shit, here we go._  
  
Earlier in April, Anthony had confided in him that the doubts Karen had wrestled with since December were stronger now, and she was considering taking her parents' offer to stay with them rent-free as she rebooted her life for the second time. He had also told Sören that Karen had requested to not discuss the matter, as she was trying to make her decision independently, and Sören respected that - he wouldn't try to push her one way or the other but he knew just talking about it to someone who would miss her and register that in their eyes and face and body language could be enough to make her feel guilty and inclined to stay, and Sören had been told more than once that he had very expressive eyes, particularly when he was sad.  
  
So Sören got the feeling Karen was about to announce a decision one way or another, and that she was even looking like she was announcing anything, rather than just continuing on business as usual, already told him what it was. Nonetheless, he sat quietly - a bit more quietly than usual - as he watched Karen watching everybody else.  
  
At last Craig looked at the clock and said, "I need to think about getting home soon, gotta take Kylie out and I have an early morning at the shelter."  
  
And Karen said, "Well... speaking of Mondays, and work, before you go..."  
  
All eyes were on her. Sören suddenly understood how his patients felt when he told them the tests had found a tumor or the nerve damage was far worse than they'd thought.  
  
Karen gave a small clear of the throat and said, "Here goes. Since the end of last year, I've been feeling out of sorts. I chalked this up to winter blahs and my grandmother dying, but it's May now, and I'm still not over it. Truth be told, the feeling hit its peak last month, I started having stomach issues very similarly to -"  
  
"To when you were practicing law," Craig said, giving her a stern look.  
  
Karen nodded solemnly. "I liked the gift shop at first, but I've really come to hate dealing with customers and... I've been realizing that my job as a librarian is going to be more of the same. I'm not cut out for that sort of... handling the masses. But, I was drawn to the idea of becoming a librarian to preserve history, and... I've been thinking I want to do that more directly than handling other people's records, I want to be the one to make what's being archived. I think I want to be a journalist. Deal with covering events, or interviewing individual people."  
  
"I think that is a fine idea," Nicholas said, nodding. "As you know, I believe recording history is very important."  
  
"As do I," Pierre said.  
  
"Right. But..." Karen took a deep breath. "That's where the catch is. I don't have any connections at places like _The Times_ or somewhere similar. I would be freelancing. It will take awhile to learn the ropes of journalism itself, and get my feet in the door with different publications. It's not necessarily a lucrative waiting period, and the cost of living in central London is a bit expensive. My parents have offered to let me stay with them rent-free while I get it together - my father's been a bit depressed since his mother died, there's no other family close by."  
  
"So you're going back to Sheffield," Nicholas said, frowning slightly.  
  
"I'm afraid so." Karen looked at Geir, who nodded.  
  
"Karen already warned me this was coming," Geir said, "and I told her she needs to do what she needs to do for her mental health and I won't be upset about it. We can still keep in touch and visit from time to time."  
  
"And that goes for the rest of you," Karen said, looking around the room. "Understand that I didn't make this decision lightly - it took me a month of mulling it over, and I played the hand as close to my chest as possible so I wouldn't upset anyone or feel guilty. I don't like leaving you all behind, but I know that if I stay on my present trajectory I'm probably going to end up seriously ill again and even if I don't..."  
  
"None of us want you to be miserable," Sören said sincerely. His eyes stung with unshed tears and his chest was tight, a lump in his throat. "I did tell you back in December when the feelings started that if you need to go for your mental health, I'd support you, and I mean that." And he did mean that still, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt just the same. He didn't want to cry - he didn't want her to feel guilt tripped; he would feel guilty if she felt the need to hold back for his sake. But he still ached, knowing this was the end. That the nagging feeling he'd been having that their relationship wasn't meant to last, had come true. He wanted Karen to be happy, with or without him, but it was still a loss, and his life had been characterized by loss.  
  
"I know you said that, Sören," Karen said, meeting his eyes. Her own eyes were too bright. "I still didn't want to hurt you, especially."  
  
"I appreciate that, but..." Sören put a hand on his heart. "It would hurt me for you to make yourself unhappy for my sake." Indeed, Sören wondered if Karen had been holding back _this_ long to avoid hurting him, and the thought hurt just as much as the thought of her leaving, if not moreso.  
  
"Not to intrude..." Nicholas looked at Karen, then at Sören. "But Karen, may I ask... when is this all happening? Very soon?"  
  
"First week of June," Karen said. "I have to give two weeks' notice at my job, and more importantly, I want to make sure Geir is squared away, I don't want to leave him hanging where he has to scramble for either a roommate or a new place to live. It'll also take me time to go through my things and pack. I'm probably going to pare down a bit so I don't have to rent a storage unit while I'm staying with my parents, and because anyplace I move to after my parents' house likely won't be as spacious as what I've got here... the upside of that is the cost of living in Sheffield is a little lower."  
  
Nicholas nodded; Sören also found himself nodding.  
  
"Let us know if you need help packing or anything," Pierre offered.  
  
"And I'd like to throw you a proper sending-off party," Nicholas said.  
  
Karen smiled. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."  
  
"Well, you mean a lot to me, dear." Nicholas also smiled, though his eyes were a little sad. "I think I speak for all of us here when I say you mean a lot to everyone, and we'd like to give you a reminder of that."  
  
"And I'd like to give you some reassurance that I'll keep in touch. I'll try to come down at least once or twice a year to visit."  
  
Sören swallowed hard. That was the other part about Karen leaving that would hurt. It was, of course, possible to have long-distance relationships but they were difficult to keep up - more or less impossible with the sort of hours Sören worked, where it was already a juggling act with what his work schedule versus making enough time for the partners he already had. Karen had not come right out and said it, not yet, but Sören already knew it - this was it. He still loved her, and he loved her enough to let her go. He understood better than most what it was like to be _driven_ , the need to do something meaningful with one's life, make a difference in the world somehow. _Set ablaze the darkness._ Just about everyone in the friends group _but_ Karen had found their way in the world - Karen thought she had, but it turned out to be a false start, a decision made in the fogged aftermath of severe stress that ended her law career. Despite his sadness, Sören was happy for her that she was finally finding her way. But it was still sad that the way very likely would not include him beyond anything other than just a friend.  
  
Sören thought about excusing himself and going off to have a cry, but he didn't want to make Karen feel guilty. He knew this decision was not made lightly and it was probably hard enough for her. So he toughed it out till everyone went home.  
  
He didn't want to fall apart in front of Nicholas or Anthony, even though he knew he _could_ \- they had seen him cry many times before. Instead, he went up onto the rooftop garden "for some air", and it was there he let it out, as quietly as possible, looking up into the night sky. He felt a twinge of guilt for feeling this way, wanting to be happy for her, supportive of her. He still couldn't help taking it as a loss, though he was trying not to take it personally and make it about him.  
  
And that, of course, made him wonder what - or who - he would lose next.  
  
  
_  
  
  
May fourth was Sören's mother Brynhildur's birthday - and this year marked twenty-five years since her death. Sören had to work, and necessarily had to give all his focus to surgery, but on his break he thought of her again, and those thoughts intensified on the way home. His mamma had not been in his life long, six short years, and yet he still remembered her, still missed her _so much_. And the ache was amplified this year not just by realizing it was twenty-five years she'd been gone, but now, losing Karen too. Karen wasn't dead, of course, but she would still leave a Karen-shaped hole in his heart.  
  
Nicholas knew the day was coming up, because Sören had been sad the same day last year and told him. Yesterday, Nicholas had asked Sören if he wanted his chosen family to come for dinner for the fourth, to remind him of the family he _did_ have. Karen had declined, as she was working extra hours at the shop to get as much money as she could to prepare for money being thin till her journalist career took off, and Pierre was going out with other friends, but Geir and Craig arrived at six.  
  
Now that spring was really here, it was a nice night for having dinner on the rooftop garden, and sitting out there to watch the sunset as they ate a good meal by the light of lanterns and fairy lights lifted Sören's spirits a little.  
  
Eventually, the conversation turned to the news that Karen would be leaving in early June. "It's a shame Karen couldn't be here tonight," Nicholas said, frowning into his wine.  
  
Geir nodded, looking a little awkward.  
  
Nicholas exhaled sharply. "I hope she's not avoiding us. I hope she doesn't think we're angry with her -"  
  
"She _is_ working extra hours at the shop, she's not lying about that, but that hasn't stopped her from coming by before. I think, honestly, she's avoiding everyone but not because she thinks people are upset with her, I think she's trying to not make it harder on herself." Geir frowned now too. "She feels guilty."  
  
"Please tell her to not be a complete stranger. We'd like to see her at least once or twice more before she goes," Nicholas said.  
  
"I will," Geir said.  
  
"And how are you handling it?" Nicholas's expression became one of concern.  
  
"I'll miss her," Geir said, "and I won't lie, this is making me sad too... but she has to do what she has to do. She was really out of sorts before the decision was solidified."  
  
"We'll all miss her." Sören looked down.  
  
"What about... your living arrangements?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow slightly. "Do you know what you're doing yet?"  
  
"To be honest, it would be less of a pain in the arse to get a roommate and have them move in, rather than having to pack everything up and go about the process of finding a studio apartment, especially here in central where I'm not ridiculously far from the Royal Opera House." Geir shrugged. "But I'm not too keen on making a Craigslist ad and trusting someone I don't know to move into my home. I got lucky with Karen, I don't expect to hit that kind of jackpot twice." Geir gave Craig a wry smile. "If you were still sleeping on the couch, you could have moved into the other bedroom."  
  
"I know," Craig said, chuckling. "I'm sorry. But your lease won't let you have dogs, and even if it would, I'm established in my flat. I'd have to move _again_ , and moving once was bad enough."  
  
A little lightbulb went off in Sören's head, and he looked at Anthony. It seemed Anthony had the same idea, because he looked at Sören, and then Anthony looked at Geir. "My arrangement staying in Sören and Nicholas's guest room was only meant to be temporary. How would you feel about me as your roommate?"  
  
"That would be convenient," Geir said.  
  
"And I can bring Seumas? I know your lease allows cats, just not dogs."  
  
Geir nodded.  
  
And though Anthony had been gaining more confidence over the last several months, now he voiced the fears that had kept him from accepting Sören's offer initially. "I _am_ still somewhat limited in what I can do around the place to keep up. It wouldn't be as much work with a small studio, which was what I'd been planning on after the year passed and I moved out of their flat, but your place is quite a bit bigger than that. When I was living in Kingston I had a housekeeper come in once or twice a month and I'm willing to spring for one, to handle the bigger chores that come with a bigger place that are hard for me to do, if that's OK with you -"  
  
Geir laughed. "That's more than OK with me. That frees me up so I have more free time, too." Geir gave Anthony a little smirk. "Things I could do with that extra free time."  
  
"Yes, indeed." Anthony smirked back, cheeks turning pink. Sören's breath hitched, not wanting to get horny at the thought of them going at it. But then Anthony got serious as he glanced at Sören, and back at Geir. "I do have to say though, that... my offer is as a roommate. We may be living together and we may be sleeping together occasionally but this isn't me asking to take a step and be nesting partners in the way that Sören and Nicholas are. Even on nights when we might both be home, I'm not asking to sleep with you every night, either. I _like_ you, I like your company, I like the sex, I'm very fond of you, but I'm not in love with you. I'd prefer to be just friends with benefits, not settling down."  
  
"I was about to say the same thing myself, so thank you for beating me to that." Geir nodded. "I think we should stay friends-with-benefits and not make it more than that, especially because I may not stay in London forever, myself, and I know you're pretty settled here."  
  
"You're planning on leaving too?" Anthony blinked slowly.  
  
"Not right away," Geir said. "But part of the appeal for me with life as a musician was being able to see the world. If I get an offer to go on tour, or a higher bid from another orchestra, I'm taking it - I wouldn't take it without giving you a lot of advance notice to find another living arrangement or a new roommate, but before you move in I feel it's better in the interest of honesty to let you know it might happen, so us living together is a 'for now' thing, probably not a 'forever' thing."  
  
"I'm OK with that," Anthony said. "Though I'll miss you too, if you do go elsewhere."  
  
"I'll miss all of you guys if that happens, but if it does I'll make it a point of coming back to visit," Geir said. "Not anything happening soon, though, so relax." Geir sipped his wine.  
  
Nonetheless, the thought of losing Geir too, someday, made Sören's heart hurt again. Indeed, when he'd been painting Geir he felt that same warning prickle he'd felt with Karen, and while he was still loath to believe in the concept of psychic abilities, let alone that he had any himself, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been right about Karen, and he was going to be right about Geir.  
  
Sören swallowed hard. Then he shoved the angst away as far as he could, and tried to be happy for what was coming up for Anthony - this was a huge step for him. It was more independence than what he had staying in the guest room, something more "his own", while still having someone else there for help if he needed help with things. "I'm glad we found a solution that works for both of you," Sören said. "And you'll still be close to work, Anthony. And close by, so I can still be up your arse." Sören had meant it in the sense of visiting regularly, but of course his mind went there with _up your arse_ and all the delicious memories of being inside Anthony. It would, indeed, be less awkward to have sex with Anthony if Nicholas wasn't right across the hall, though Sören still had that secret hope that someday the three of them would be together.  
  
In the meantime... the idea that Geir might join in with him and Anthony sometime... a shiver went down Sören's spine, his cock stirring at that thought. _Down, boy,_ Sören told his cock.  
  
"Well, this calls for more wine, and a toast," Nicholas said. He poured out another round for himself, Sören and Geir. Anthony was limiting himself to one because of his medication, and Craig abstained; Craig had a bottle of sparkling cider all to himself, and now Craig poured out more sparkling cider for both himself and Anthony. Anthony smiled at him as he gave thanks.  
  
Nicholas stood and raised his glass. "Where one door closes, another opens. To continued friendships, and new opportunities and possibilities."  
  
" _Skál_ ," Sören said as glasses clinked.  
  
As he drank, Anthony smiled at him, and Sören smiled back - but now his heart was aching all over again. He'd gotten used to Anthony living there for the last six months, and though Anthony would only be a very short walk away and they'd still be seeing each other regularly, Sören would miss him. And Seumas, who he'd gotten very attached to. _Fuck._  
  
Sören was now feeling even worse than when the day started, even though he knew he shouldn't, he truly wanted to be happy for Anthony taking this important step, further down the road of recovery and getting his life back. But even though he was surrounded by his family of choice, Sören felt alone. He tried not to cry as he downed his wine.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören gave it a week, and when it became clear that Karen was still avoiding everyone, he took matters into his own hands. In the late afternoon of the twelfth, after Sören left the National, he made a detour instead of going straight home. He stopped at the Royal Opera House Gift Shop, knowing Karen was working. She looked surprised to see him.  
  
"Sören!" She came over to give him a hug.  
  
Sören returned the hug, even though it made him ache again, knowing that very soon he wouldn't get her hugs anymore - maybe a couple times a year if she visited or he and Nicholas went up to see her. He patted her as he pulled back. "If you don't want to see me I'll just go home, but -"  
  
"No, it's OK." Their eyes met. "I... I'm really sorry if I gave the impression I don't want to see you -"  
  
"Jæja, you kind of did." Sören shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Geir says he thinks you've just been avoiding us because you feel guilty -"  
  
"He's right." Karen reached up to touch Sören's face. "I didn't want my decision to hurt anyone's feelings. I know Nicholas thinks of me like a daughter, and I'm like Craig's big sister, and I was Anthony's first friend after what happened, and... there's you. Especially you."  
  
Sören took Karen's hand and kissed it. "I did mean what I said in December, when I said if you need to do something else with your life and that means moving away, I understand and support you. I won't lie and say I'm not sad, you know I'll miss you, but I want you to be happy." Sören gave her a stern look. "I want you to be _OK_ , and it fucking kills me that you've been stressing yourself out trying to stay in a situation you hate, to avoid hurting us. That's hurting _you_."  
  
"I'm glad you're not angry with me. And I'll miss you too. That's... that's been part of my fear, that you'll think I got sick of you and am just abandoning you -"  
  
Sören took Karen into his arms again, and then, public place be damned, work professionalism be damned - Karen wouldn't be at that job much longer anyway - the impulse took Sören over and he kissed Karen, hard. Karen grabbed Sören's face and kissed him back, and then her hands ran down over his chest, making him shiver. She reached around and pulled him closer to her, hands grabbing Sören's ass, squeezing. They were breathing harder when the kiss broke, and Sören pressed his forehead to Karen's, tears in his eyes, overcome with emotion as he breathed her breath, breathed her in. Then Karen kissed him back, with such hunger in the kiss that it took Sören every ounce of his will not to march Karen over to the counter and take her right at the cash register for all the world to see.  
  
"Wait here," Karen said. "I'm going to go back and tell them I'm leaving early."  
  
"Won't they get mad?"  
  
Karen shrugged, grinning. "Tomorrow's my last day, I don't care."  
  
Sören laughed as he waited. When Karen came back a few minutes later, giggling, they kissed again, and then they went to Karen and Geir's flat. Coming in, Sören saw Karen was in the process of packing and she'd gotten quite a bit done, though she still had more to go.  
  
Sören was in an amorous mood, wanting to go upstairs, but Karen wanted to have tea first, and that was OK with him - Karen needed to relax, even if she had left early, he knew her job was still a source of stress. And they needed to talk. They might as well talk now. Karen put on tea and when it was ready, Sören washed his hands before he sat down.  
  
"I take it you've heard Anthony is moving in so Geir doesn't have to move out?" Sören asked.  
  
Karen nodded. "I think that's an ideal arrangement for both of them. Well... mostly. It's too bad you, him and Nicholas can't..." She didn't finish the sentence.  
  
"Jæja." Sören exhaled sharply. He wasn't going to broach the possibility of things becoming a triad, not wanting to have an awkward conversation with Anthony or with Nicholas - that sort of relationship couldn't be forced, he didn't want them to feel pressured into it. It would either develop organically or not at all. Then Sören went on, changing the subject only slightly. "Anthony _did_ tell Geir that he doesn't want what... well, you know. What me and Nick have... with Geir. This is just roommates, not... a relationship. Geir agreed. They're just... friends-with-benefits."  
  
"Which I also think is for the best. I couldn't see them working out as partners beyond that."  
  
"No. But it leads me to a point." Their eyes met. "Look, I'll be blunt. You know I don't have a lot of time. I'm spread thin as it is..." Sören couldn't resist going there, needing to lighten the mood slightly with humor. "Key word being 'spread'."  
  
Karen snickered. "You're terrible."  
  
" _Takk._ " Then Sören got serious again as he went on. "I have Nick, I have Craig, I have Geir, and eventually, I'm looking at giving Anthony that second chance."  
  
Karen nodded.  
  
"I love you." Sören stroked Karen's cheek. "I'll miss you. But between my partners and my job, and my art... I don't have the kind of spare time that I need to keep a relationship going long-distance."  
  
"I know," Karen said.  
  
"But..." Sören played with a strand of her hair. "The feelings are still there. The desire is still there. And I imagine Nick would want to go up to Sheffield to see you once in awhile, since he cares about you very much, and you'd probably come to London every so often to see Ben and the rest of us. If you're in the neighborhood, I'd still like to..." Sören gave her a couple of nudges and attempted to wink, knowing it was a clumsy squint since he couldn't wink properly.  
  
Karen laughed, but then she, too, got serious. "I still love you too, Sören, which is why this has been so hard. I don't want to lose you. But..." Karen took a deep breath. "This is going to be hard enough to do. The desire is still there on my part, yes. Too much, in fact, which is why I'm going to say that we should probably just be friends, not friends-with-benefits. Because if I come to visit, or you come to visit me, and we fall into bed... it's going to get me missing you all over again, wanting you, aching for your touch, _that tongue_... and I'm going to have doubts about whether or not I actually made the right decision. All those years after we fell out of touch in Reykjavik wondering where you were and if our paths would ever cross again, were bad enough. I don't want to put myself through that a second time."  
  
"I understand," Sören said, but he couldn't help but feel that touch of sadness anyway.  
  
"In a few years, if I end up returning to central London for my journalism career, or if I don't but I'm more confident in the direction my life has taken... I might be open to going there once in awhile, if you're still OK with that, and if I'm still single or I have a partner who's OK with me having a bit on the side now and again. But... to be equally blunt on my part, that might be a dealbreaker for a lot of prospective partners, and having an open relationship isn't as important and necessary to me as it is for you. I don't want you to take this as me suddenly not being fine with you being poly, I'm simply saying that I can handle monogamy better than you can, probably. So... it's a possibility for the future, but don't expect it."  
  
"That's fair." Sören nodded.  
  
"So... just friends."  
  
"Just friends." Sören patted her. "I'd still like to keep in touch with the occasional e-mail or phone call, and like I said, Nick will probably want to visit once in awhile..."  
  
"That's fine." Karen smiled. "I don't want to lose touch with you, Sören. I still want you in my life, somehow."  
  
"OK." Sören was sad, but at least he knew he wasn't losing her completely. _Just mostly._ He tried not to let his sadness register, not wanting to make her feel guilty, knowing this was hard enough.  
  
And then Karen took Sören's chin in her hand and made him meet her eyes. She traced his lips with her thumb. "One last time?"  
  
Sören moved close and kissed her. They kissed again and again, and after Sören's thumb brushed a nipple through the fabric of Karen's blouse, she grabbed his hands and yanked him up off the couch. Sören laughed as she grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and began dragging him off to the bedroom. Sören paused in the hallway outside Karen's room to send off a text to Nicholas: _At Karen's. Will be a little late._ As soon as the text was sent, Karen kissed him hard, and marched him to the bed, kissing all the way.  
  
If this would be their last time, Sören was going to make it count. They were going to make fireworks.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören came home a little after eight PM. Anthony and Nicholas had already had dinner, and Nicholas was just about to put it away when Sören walked in.  
  
"Sören!" Nicholas paused. "I don't know if you'd eaten yet, but -"  
  
Sören tried to keep the smirk off his face, and failed. "I haven't had dinner, no."  
  
Anthony looked away, facepalming; Sören could hear the unvoiced _you're bloody incorrigible._ Sören made it worse, licking his lips when Anthony looked back at him - he had to do it to him - and Anthony rolled his eyes, mouthing _"god"_ as he shook with silent laughter. It went completely over Nicholas's head as he loaded a plate with chicken and vegetables and put it in the microwave. "Good, I'll heat this up for you." Nicholas hit the start button.  
  
After dinner, Sören and Nicholas went for their evening walk, and then did tai chi together. But though tai chi usually relaxed Sören, Sören wasn't relaxed at all - Sören could understand why Karen felt them continuing as friends-with-benefits would make her ache for him too much, because the aftermath of the "one last time" was in some ways worse for him than if they hadn't formally had a last time at all. He would _really_ miss making love to her, and as importantly, he would miss the snuggling afterwards.  
  
He felt like a wound had been ripped open all over again.  
  
Sören and Nicholas showered together, but rather than the shower being a sensual prelude to lovemaking, Sören fell apart in the shower. First he tried not to cry, then he tried to let the water beating down serve as a disguise... but Nicholas knew what was going on. He pulled Sören close and kissed Sören's brow.  
  
"So it's over with her, then?" Nicholas asked.  
  
Sören nodded, and he began to sob openly. "It's over, Daddy. She's gone. She doesn't even want to be friends-with-benefits, she just..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He couldn't make words anymore, he could only cry. He respected her decision, of course, and at least they could still be friends. At least it wasn't a rejection so much as it was preventing further attachment and deeper hurt. But it still hurt.  
  
Nicholas's arms tightened around Sören. As the water poured over them, Nicholas rocked him under the shower; Sören nuzzled Nicholas's chest hair, letting it soothe him, make him feel safe. "Hush, baby," Nicholas husked, petting Sören's curls. "Daddy's here. Daddy's not leaving you. Daddy's not going anywhere."  
  
Sören looked up and blinked slowly, realizing what Nicholas had just said. "You... you called me baby."  
  
"Yes, I admit calling a grown man 'baby' feels rather strange, but it just slipped out. It felt right, when you are so vulnerable." Nicholas gave a small, wry smile, before he put Sören's head on his shoulder and resumed rocking him, and Sören resumed crying. "Hush, baby. Daddy's still here, my good boy. My good, sweet boy with your sensitive heart. I know it hurts. Daddy will make it better."  
  
And when they left the shower and went to their bedroom, that was exactly what Nicholas did. He put the collar around Sören's neck and clipped the leash through, and pulled Sören towards him on the leash, into his arms. For a few moments Nicholas just held Sören on his lap, petting him, as Sören snuggled, comforted by the tangible display of belonging to him.  
  
"That's a good boy," Nicholas said softly. "See? You're mine. You're my good boy. Daddy will always take care of you."  
  
Sören skritched Nicholas's whiskers and kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose, making the older man smile. "I love you, Daddy."  
  
"And I love you too."  
  
Nicholas kissed him, and Sören melted into the kiss. One kiss became another, and another, and soon Sören was laying back against the pillows and Nicholas was kissing him all over, making him moan and writhe, sensitized flesh thrilling to Nicholas's tender loving care. Even though Sören had a couple rounds of sex with Karen just a few hours ago, his body hungered for more - hungered for Nicholas.  
  
Their eyes locked as Nicholas took Sören's cock into his mouth. As he began to suck slowly, Sören bucked and cried out, clutching Nicholas's head. "Daddy," Sören panted. "Oh god, Daddy..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm." Nicholas pulled Sören's cock out and gave it a few licks. "As you know, Daddy takes care of his good boy."  
  
"Oh, _fuck._ " Sören shuddered and gave an urgent little whine.  
  
Nicholas continued sucking Sören's cock, slowly, teasingly, getting Sören closer and closer to that edge but just out of reach, taking his sweet time watching Sören fall apart. Sören loved it, whimpering, begging, losing himself in pleasure. What Nicholas was doing to his cock didn't just feel incredible, but the look of lust, the look of _want_ in those dark chocolate eyes was one of the sexiest things in the world to Sören.  
  
Even sexier was that silver chest hair when Nicholas came up to kiss Sören, before Sören could come in his mouth. Sören wanted to return the favor and worship his beloved, pushing Nicholas onto his back and kissing, caressing everywhere he could reach, going down Nicholas's body then back up, paying special attention to Nicholas's sensitive nipples and the delicious pelt. "Fuck, I want you," Sören growled. "You're so sexy, Daddy."  
  
"Mmmmm, I have such a talented boy." Nicholas pet him. Sören rubbed his nose in the chest hair and then Nicholas closed his eyes and shuddered as Sören licked it some more. "Such a good boy."  
  
Every time Nicholas called him a good boy, it went straight to his cock. Sören whimpered as he rubbed his hard cock against Nicholas's thigh. "Please, Daddy, I want it in me so bad."  
  
"What do you want in you, darling?" Nicholas had a smug little smile on his face - he knew perfectly damn well what.  
  
"Daddy's cock."  
  
Nicholas groaned - now Sören smiled at the way Nicholas's hard cock leapt - and he pulled Sören up with the leash, then rolled Sören back onto his back. "I _suppose_ ," Nicholas said with an eyeroll, but then he smiled, his eyes teasing. Sören loved the way they crinkled at the corners when he was amused, and he reached up to touch Nicholas's face, smiling back.  
  
They kissed as Nicholas readied them both, and then Nicholas was inside him. Once Nicholas bottomed out, he tugged on the leash and pulled Sören into another kiss. When the kiss broke, they rubbed noses, and Nicholas looked into Sören's eyes with such love it made Sören's breath catch. "You feel so good, sweetheart." Nicholas began to thrust, slowly, and he groaned. Sören moaned too, loving the slow, teasing rubbing inside him. "Oh, my love." Nicholas kissed him again. "So very good."  
  
"Oh, Daddy." Sören shivered, and bit his lip, moaning. "You have such a nice cock, Daddy. It's so big."  
  
"Mmmmmmm." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose and then he gave Sören a wicked look. "She can't give this to you, can she? Not the real thing."  
  
"Oh _fuck_..." Sören shivered again, cock jolting, and his hands gripped Nicholas's hips, going out of his mind with lust.  
  
"That's right, sweetheart." Nicholas began to kiss and lick Sören's neck. "She can't fuck you the way Daddy fucks you."  
  
"Oh my fucking _god._ " Sören dug his nails into Nicholas's hips and bucked, panting. He felt like he was almost ready to come just from that.  
  
"That's it." Nicholas nibbled on the sweet spot where Sören's neck and shoulder met, thrusting just a little faster. He licked where his teeth had been. "You like this better, don't you?"  
  
"Oh god." Sören whimpered, raking Nicholas's back, rocking his hips back at Nicholas, urging him on faster. "Oh god, Daddy. Daddy, fuck me..."  
  
"Mmmmmm, that's a good boy." Nicholas nibbled on Sören's shoulder. "You know who you belong to." He tugged the leash. "You know you belong to Daddy -"  
  
"Fuck!" Sören's nails raked Nicholas's back again. He whined, almost sobbed, completely overcome by lust at the way Nicholas was being possessive like this.  
  
"Daddy's boy. Not hers." Their eyes met. "Mine." Nicholas kissed him, fiercely.  
  
Sören whimpered into the kiss and Nicholas groaned, thrusting harder. Soon, Nicholas was pounding him into the mattress, playing with the leash, a feral look in his eyes that drove Sören mad with frantic, white-hot need. "Mine," Nicholas growled. "Mine. Not hers. _Mine._ You belong to _me_. You belong to Daddy, and Daddy's not going anywhere." Nicholas started kissing Sören's neck again, a thumb straying to play with Sören's hard nipple. "I shan't leave. I'm too greedy for your beautiful, delicious body -"  
  
"Oh, _fuck_ , Daddy, _more_..." Sören whimpered and scratched down Nicholas's back again, hips bucking, matching Nicholas's rhythm, Nicholas's cock stroking him just right, Nicholas's words in that deep, velvet voice threatening to undo him any second, but he wanted to stay lost in this moment of belonging, being owned, _claimed_. "More, Daddy, more..."  
  
Sören knew begging for more was Nicholas's sexual kryptonite, and Nicholas shuddered and groaned before his mouth latched onto the nipple he was playing with. Nicholas slammed into him and Sören grabbed Nicholas's head, the sight of Nicholas hungrily suckling his nipple sending him right to that edge and locking him there. "More, Daddy, more! More, give me more, oh god, more, I need more, I need more, Daddy, more..."  
  
Nicholas groaned. He took a few licks at Sören's nipple before suckling again, then turned to feast at the other one, moaning as he sucked, making Sören pant and moan. Sören whimpered just before Nicholas kissed him, and Nicholas's hand reached between them, stroking Sören's precum-slick cock. "More," Sören begged. "More, Daddy, give me more, give me more, I need more, _more_..."  
  
"That's right, sweetheart," Nicholas rasped, kissing Sören's throat. "You're mine. Not hers. Mine. Daddy's boy..."  
  
"Daddy! _Daddy!_ Pabbi..." Sören shuddered, and he looked into Nicholas's eyes, giving a desperate little whimper as he felt himself rush to that point of no return. "Pabbi. Pabbi. _Daddy._ Don't stop, Daddy, I'm so close, don't stop..."  
  
"Does my boy need to come, hm?" Nicholas gave him an amused look before kissing him again, hand speeding up on Sören's cock. "Mmmmm, Daddy wants to make his good boy feel _so_ good -"  
  
" _DADDY!_ " Sören lost control, shooting, a high-pitched noise turning into a deep growl as he shook with the pleasure throbbing through him.  
  
Two thrusts later Nicholas's eyes widened and he gasped. "Sweetheart." Nicholas trembled, and Sören moaned at the feel of hot seed spilling into him. "Oh, Sören, I love you." Nicholas gasped again, panted. "I love you so much, sweetheart..."  
  
Tears came to Sören's eyes - good tears. Nicholas tugged on the leash as they kissed deeply, and they sighed together as their orgasm continued to pulse, euphoria after the sorrow. In moments like this, Sören could believe everything would be OK, somehow.  
  
After a shattering climax, Sören drifted off to sleep... on the leash. He woke up a couple of hours later, needing to use the bathroom, and Nicholas woke from his own sleep to unclip the leash. But that feeling of being off the leash when Sören went about his business filled him with a sense of loss, and when he came back to the bedroom he was crying again. He tried to hide it, not wanting to disturb Nicholas, since Nicholas had to work in the morning, but of course Nicholas knew something was wrong.  
  
The sad feelings about Karen returned. The feeling he couldn't shake that sooner or later, Geir would be gone too. The feeling, worst of all, that someday Nicholas would be gone, the inevitability of old age. Sören's mind's eye replayed finding his mother's dead body. He wept into Nicholas's chest, broken, loud sobs.  
  
There was a knock at the door. "Hi," Anthony said. "I'm sorry... I heard the crying and -"  
  
"Come in," Nicholas said. They were both nude, but Anthony had seen Sören nude countless times, and Anthony had seen Nicholas in just a towel. Sören nonetheless noticed from the nightlight that Anthony's cheeks were pink as he made his way towards the bed, settling on the other side of Sören. Sören rolled so they could both look at him; Anthony put a hand on Sören's cheek, wiping his tears with his thumb.  
  
Nicholas got up quickly to put his pajamas on, and Sören couldn't help but notice Anthony watching him, though he was trying to keep his focus on consoling Sören. It would have amused Sören if he wasn't so distraught over Karen.  
  
"Shhhh, it's OK," Anthony whispered, petting him. "It's all right. I know. I'll miss her too, I imagine it's worse for you because -"  
  
Sören sobbed and nodded. "We're... we're just friends now. No benefits."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. "I'm sorry, Sören. I know that hurts."  
  
"I already miss her. I know she's not _gone_ gone yet, but..."  
  
Nicholas climbed back into bed on the other side of Sören. "But she's still gone in the way that counts." Nicholas pulled them both into a group hug, rocking. "We're both here, darling."  
  
 _You're gonna leave too._ Sören looked at Anthony's eyes, full of sympathy. He felt almost like begging Anthony not to move out, but he didn't - that wouldn't be fair to Geir, and it wouldn't be fair to Nicholas, not having consulted him first. And at least Anthony was staying in his life, he was only moving just a few houses away.  
  
"Here, I have an idea." Anthony got out of bed, and Sören watched as he hobbled out of the bedroom on his cane, across the hall.  
  
A couple of minutes later Anthony came back, lugging his weighted blanket with one hand as he used his cane with the other; Sören's weighted blanket was downstairs in the living room. Anthony spread the weighted blanket over them before he got back in, cuddling Sören again. "Shhhhh," Anthony soothed, petting Sören's curls. "It's OK. We've got you."  
  
"This is where you belong," Nicholas husked. "With us."  
  
Sören noticed that was an admission on Nicholas's part that he was allowing Anthony "co-ownership". It _almost_ sounded like the three of them were a unit, but Sören once again didn't want to get his hopes up about them becoming a triad.  
  
Besides, he and Anthony weren't even technically back together yet, and Sören wondered if Anthony would "rethink his life" too and decide a second go-round with Sören wasn't such a hot idea after all. That thought made Sören fall apart all over again.  
  
"Shhhhh." Anthony's arms tightened around him. "We've got you. You've got us. It's going to be all right. It will be all right."  
  
Sören closed his eyes and sighed, their arms and the weight of the blanket beginning to soothe him.  
  
  
_  
  
  
 _This is where you belong, darling. With us._  
  
 _Let your brothers take care of you. Let your brothers love you._  
  
Sören is in the other body again, and Nicholas and Anthony lead him to a rug spread before the fire. Soon they are both inside him, cocks rubbing together as they stroke to that frenzied, wild rhythm where the only thing in the world that matters is their passion, burning as hot as the fire in the hearth.  
  
 _You belong to us._  
  
 _Ours. Not hers._  
  
Sören forgets about his wife, forgets about his troubles, loses himself in every kiss, every touch, every fuck, wanting them more than he ever wanted her. When they come together it is glorious. Sören feels infinite, the three of them three parts of one greater, bright, brilliant whole.  
  
Other-Anthony's silver-gold hair and other-Nicholas's star-blue eyes captivate him. There is hope here, there is light. He has dreamt of this moment before, the inspiration for his greatest work, but now he feels it even stronger, consuming him like the fire burning.  
  
He sees himself in the forge, crafting the jewels, remembering the light. That feeling of how everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. The joy, the _wonder_ chasing away the pain. The three jewels burn like three little suns.  
  
They burn like his love for them, the way his love for them makes him love _life_. The way the beauty of their love makes all things beautiful.  
  
 _This is for you, my brothers, you who my soul loves. This is how I feel about you. You give me hope. Give me life. These are the seeds of hope, the light of peace and joy that no darkness can conquer._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören woke up the next day feeling like he was hungover, even though he hadn't had a drop to drink last night. But it was a feeling he'd gotten previously on mornings after a good, hard cry the night before. Sören felt leaden as he made his way downstairs, wishing he didn't have to go into work and could just hide in bed all day.  
  
Nicholas and Anthony were downstairs having coffee and breakfast like usual; Sören joined them at the table. When he was finished eating he went to the couch to do his daily Duolingo lesson, and curled up under the weighted blanket he kept downstairs by the couch. Tobias came over and curled up on him, purring loudly, and the weighted blanket and the purring cat helped.  
  
To further self-soothe, Sören helped himself to the candy in the pineapple bucket - the mints were all eaten and had been replaced by butterscotch discs. When he replaced the lid on the pineapple he finally noticed it - sitting on the coffee table next to the pineapple was George the wig. Not merely sitting next to the pineapple, but cuddling up against it.  
  
"Oh my fucking god, Anthony," Sören said, facepalming.  
  
Anthony came over to admire his handiwork... and Sören saw Anthony had his kazoo. Now Anthony began playing the sax solo from "Careless Whisper" on the kazoo. Sören lost it, doubling over, face and sides hurting.  
  
"Goddammit, Anthony..."  
  
Anthony stopped playing for a minute to grin at him - that grin took Sören's breath away, making his stomach flutter - and then he resumed the song as Nicholas chuckled and shook his head.  
  
It was just what Sören needed right now. A reminder that the more things were changing, the more other things would stay the same.


	37. Wonderballs

"I still don't understand why you're making me wear a blindfold to come in," Sören said, making a face with the scarf around his eyes. "What could _possibly_ be so much of a surprise of what's in your and Geir's place?" Sören smirked. "Pineapple decor?"  
  
Anthony snickered. "You'll see. Almost there."  
  
Anthony unlocked the door and led Sören through. Sören had to wait by the door, blindfold on, as Anthony went into the flat to look for the surprise. He didn't have to go far, it was on a windowsill in the kitchen, soaking up the June sunshine.  
  
Anthony brought over the surprise, carried in his free arm. "Put out your hand," Anthony said, then, "your other hand."  
  
Sören did, and Anthony sidled along for Sören to touch it. "Hi, Seumas," Sören said, stroking fur, smiling. Sören smirked again. "Does he have a pineapple on his collar? Is he wearing a cat-sized version of George?"  
  
"You can take off the blindfold now."  
  
Sören took off the blindfold and he _squeaked_ when he saw what Anthony was holding - a chocolate shorthaired tabby. Anthony found Sören's reaction delightful - and adorable, his heart aching for him once again - and Sören began to give the cat more pets, his face brighter than the sun.  
  
"Oh my god. Oh my god, you got another caaaaaaaaaaaaat."  
  
"I did. I thought Seumas might need another friend, since, you know, he got attached to Tobias and..." He couldn't finish the sentence. While he wasn't unhappy in his living arrangement with Geir, he missed living with Sören and Nicholas. He missed Tobias, too, even though he could still visit.  
  
Sören nodded, understanding. "So now he has a new friend. And such a cutie!" Sören began skritching the cat's chin; the cat purred louder. "Can I hold the kitty?"  
  
"Yeah." Anthony handed Sören the cat.  
  
Anthony and Sören walked to the couch, Sören carrying the cat. Sören let go once they were on the couch and the cat continued to stand on him, sniffing curiously. Sören gave the cat more pettings. "I love her. Him. Uh..."  
  
"You were right the first time," Anthony said.  
  
"Does she have a name?"  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes - he'd been expecting this and he felt a little ridiculous mentioning it to someone else. "At the shelter, if they have a name from their previous owner, that's the name listed on their paperwork and... her previous owner was apparently really into that American cartoon, _South Park_ , named her Chocolate Saltyballs after the Chef song."  
  
Sören howled with laughter. "Oh my fucking _god_. Well, she is very chocolatey."  
  
"Yeah, I'm thinking of renaming her because that's just -"  
  
"OH NO YOU CAN'T." Sören's eyes widened, horrified. He pet the cat harder, who headbutted him, purring as if to agree. "That's a great name. WE CAN CALL THE CAT 'BALLS' FOR SHORT."  
  
"It's a girl."  
  
"OK then... Miss Balls."  
  
Anthony facepalmed and now he was laughing too.  
  
Anthony and Sören spent a few minutes petting the cat and then Seumas also came over to say hello. That was when Anthony realized and rose from the couch on his cane. "Where are my manners. Do you want something to eat, or drink?" _Mind, gutter._ He shoved away the mental image of offering Sören his cock. They weren't back together yet.  
  
"Something to drink, but I can get it." Sören also got up and went to the kitchen before Anthony could stop him. Sören came back with a cold ginger ale for each of them - it was a warm day - and when he sat back down, Miss Balls climbed on him, grabbed his wrist, and gently nibbled Sören's hand as if to say _"why did you stop petting me?"_ Sören laughed softly and resumed petting her. "Awwww, what a sweet girl."  
  
"She really is. That's why I took her home."  
  
"She's kind of old too, huh?"  
  
Anthony nodded, once again regarding the boniness and loose skin. "The shelter said she's about fourteen or fifteen. The owner had to rehome her quickly and didn't say much."  
  
"Awwww, poor baby. Well, it's good that you were willing to adopt an older cat. A lot of people don't."  
  
Anthony nodded again. "I like old furballs."  
  
"I bet," Sören quipped before taking a sip of his ginger ale.  
  
Anthony's face burned - he had a feeling Sören's shot was a way of saying he noticed Anthony's crush on Nicholas, without coming right out and saying it directly, and if that was the case Sören wasn't wrong at all, but Anthony wasn't ready to have that conversation if ever. He didn't think Nicholas was interested, or would be interested, and he didn't want to make things awkward. As it was, he was worried that following Karen's departure, Sören would rethink giving him a second chance, not wanting to risk the trust and face even more heartbreak. Anthony sighed, sipped his own ginger ale, and continued skritching Miss Balls. Seumas got needy for attention and draped himself on Anthony's shoulder. Anthony couldn't help smiling, angst melting away at the stereo surround sound of two happy cats purring. Finally Seumas got down and went over to get food.  
  
"I have a surprise for you too, you know," Sören said.  
  
"No, I didn't know, but you're always full of surprises." Anthony smirked, wondering what it could be - guessing it was some sort of mischief.  
  
Sören put his drink down and then he reached into his pocket. He produced what looked like a folded-up legal-sized envelope. He unfolded the envelope and handed it to Anthony.  
  
Anthony opened the envelope and his mouth dropped when he pulled out the contents. Oasis was playing a reunion concert at the Etihad in Manchester on Saturday, June eighteenth. Anthony hadn't mentioned it, but he had tried to get concerts as soon as he'd heard about it and it was already too late, they'd sold out within the first 24 hours. Anthony couldn't believe he didn't just have tickets, he had a pair of _good_ tickets.  
  
Anthony hugged Sören, laughing and crying a little. "Oh my god, Sören." He could have kissed Sören, and he knew that was a bad idea, so he pulled back and looked at the tickets again, still incredulous. "Where... how..."  
  
"My colleague Pamela has the biggest crush on Liam Gallagher and she wouldn't shut up about it for weeks. Tickets went on sale during a night when I was working graveyard, so as soon as I got a break I hopped online and ordered a pair."  
  
"You're coming with me," Anthony said, tugging at Sören's sleeve. "You have to -"  
  
Sören nodded. "I already booked a room at a hotel. I had to get one with one bed because that's all they had, but we've, you know. Shared a bed and just cuddled before, it shouldn't be an issue."  
  
Anthony nodded, though he felt a wistful ache - making love after the concert would have been perfect. But he got choked up for another reason. "Sören, remember when I told you my uncle Nigel took me to go see Oasis in concert when I was a teenager?"  
  
"Jæja, I remember you telling me he let you drink underage and it was your first time getting shit-faced."  
  
"And hungover." Anthony smiled, remembering that memory with fondness and a touch of sadness. "Well... that concert was in June 1996. Twenty years ago. This is the twenty-year anniversary -"  
  
Now Sören was the one to throw his arms around Anthony and hug him tight. "I didn't know what year it was. I..."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony swallowed hard, eyes burning with unshed tears. "Thank you. Thank you so much, for this."  
  
Sören patted him. "It's a really fitting tribute to his memory, já?"  
  
Anthony nodded. "Yeah it is."  
  
Just before he could start to cry, Miss Balls tapped him and gave a tiny meow as if to demand more pettings. "Awwwwww," Anthony said. He began to pet his new cat, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm gonna feel bad about leaving these guys alone overnight, but they'll have Geir."  
  
"I'm sure Geir will spoil them. The only thing you really have to worry about is them deciding they like Uncle Geir better."  
  
Anthony chuckled. "No, I think Nicholas has a better shot. _As you know_ , he's very good with cats."  
  
"He has that magic touch," Sören said in a way that let Anthony know he wasn't just thinking about cat pettings.  
  
Anthony's cheeks burned again, not wanting to think about Nicholas like that. But he knew Nicholas wasn't just a contender for stealing his cats' affection - Nicholas Decaux had already stolen a piece of his heart, and Anthony hated wanting what he couldn't have.  
  
At least going away for an overnight trip with Sören would feel like they were back together again, even though they weren't. He had that, and for now, that was enough. Anthony skritched Sören's beard like he was a cat, making Sören giggle, before he resumed skritching Miss Balls.  
  
  
_  
  
On the morning of the eighteenth, Sören came to pick Anthony up - he'd called a cab to bring them to the train station. In the cab, Anthony noticed something that touched him almost as deeply as the gift of the tickets itself - back in 2012, Anthony had given Sören his Oasis T-shirt to wear and told him to keep it; he'd gotten the Oasis shirt at the concert in 1996 and was in pristine condition for being a vintage since Anthony had worn it rarely. After the breakup Anthony assumed Sören probably threw it out. But today Sören was wearing it. The exact same T-shirt.  
  
"You... you never got rid of it?" Anthony's eyes misted.  
  
Sören shook his head. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. Or the love notes."  
  
Anthony hugged him tight, and fought the urge to kiss him.  
  
It was a four-hour train ride north. They entertained themselves watching episodes of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ on DVD on Sören's laptop. It felt almost like old times.  
  
When they checked into their hotel room, Anthony noticed the room had a hot tub, and he wondered if Sören _really_ could only get a room with one bed due to availability, or if this was a seduction plan. He found himself hoping it was the latter, but he didn't want to get his hopes up too high.  
  
However, if Sören was trying to seduce him, he also wasn't heavy-handed about it, being his usual self. Anthony tried to stay casual, too, distracting himself by looking at the mini-bar. "I think if we're gonna drink, in honor of my late uncle and all, we should do it before we go to the concert, rather than waiting in a queue for hours to get a drink," Anthony said.  
  
Sören nodded, and then he held up a finger. Anthony watched as he zipped open his duffel bag and produced a bottle of Brennivín. Anthony threw his head back and laughed - the Icelandic aquavit had started to be imported to the UK in 2015 but it was still a pain to come by.  
  
"Got you covered," Sören said. He grabbed two shot glasses from the mini-bar and poured for them. As he poured he raised an eyebrow at Anthony. "Have you ever had aquavit before?"  
  
"I've had vodka, but -"  
  
Sören snorted. "This drink is called the Black Death where I come from." He handed a shot glass to Anthony of clear liquid.  
  
"Well..." Anthony felt a touch of apprehension. "Bottoms up."  
  
" _Skál_."  
  
They clinked glasses and drank. The alcohol _burned_ on its way down, and tasted a lot like cough syrup, only worse. Anthony didn't know how Icelanders could drink this stuff, but then, he knew they ate fermented shark and entire sheep heads, so this was probably nothing.  
  
But even Sören made a face when it went down. "WOOOOOOOOOOOO, goddamn, it's been awhile." Sören blinked slowly and smacked his lips. "Jesus."  
  
Anthony couldn't help laughing. "Enough to knock a Viking on his arse, eh?"  
  
"Just about." Sören gave the thumbs up as he put his glass down. "Come on, let's see if the Gallaghers can make bigger arses of themselves than we can."  
  
The concert was everything Anthony had hoped it would be and more. Oasis played all the classics in their repertoire; Liam and Noel traded barbs without punching each other or flouncing offstage. Anthony and Sören were close enough to get a good view, and the acoustics in the stadium were superb. Anthony and Sören sang along, though Anthony got a little choked up during "Wonderwall", the penultimate song in the set - that song reminded him of his friendship with his uncle... the way his uncle had talked him out of suicide as a depressed, friendless teenager, only to take his own life in 1998. The way Anthony's friendship with Mark Lowry had begun, hearing Mark play that very song on a harp in the park, as if Mark already knew him, knew he was grieving. Missing his uncle. Missing that first lover, who had ghosted him.  
  
The final song was "Live Forever". Sören flicked a lighter and got even louder, belting out:  
  
 _Maybe I just wanna fly  
Wanna live, I don't wanna die  
Maybe I just wanna breathe  
Maybe I just don't believe  
Maybe you're the same as me  
We see things they'll never see  
You and I are gonna live forever_  
  
Their eyes met as they sang together. Sören's free hand took Anthony's hand, and squeezed. This had been one of their relationship songs back in 2012-2013. They had loved each other so much. Anthony still loved him fiercely. The nostalgia hit even harder with the alcohol, and Anthony cried, but it was a mixture of happiness and sadness. The words still rang true even after everything. _Maybe you're the same as me / We see things they'll never see._  
  
They might not live forever, but he wanted to spend forever with this man. He was even more sure of that now, than he was when he proposed on Christmas 2012.  
  
Back at the hotel, they sang on the way up to their room, laughing. The alcohol was definitely hitting Anthony, and he declined as Sören poured two more shots.  
  
"I'm drunk enough," Anthony said.  
  
"Hi Drunk Enough."  
  
Anthony snorted. _God, I missed that._  
  
Sören downed both the shots of Brennivín, which made Anthony question the Icelander's sanity, but then he supposed that was not even a question, Sören's particular brand of eccentricity was one of the things he loved most about him. To prove that he had enough alcohol in his system already, Anthony went to his luggage and took out something he packed when he was stone-cold sober: George the wig. He put it on the nightstand.  
  
"Oh my god." Sören fell over on the bed, wheezing. "You brought George?"  
  
"You bitch at me about leaving him home all the time, of course I had to bring him."  
  
"You should have brought him to the concert."  
  
"No, then some idiot probably would have stolen him, and I'd get in trouble. Besides, George was warm and cozy sleeping in my bag, weren't you?" Anthony made George nod.  
  
"Wow, Anthony. Just... wow." Then Sören took off his shirt. "George might be warm and cozy, but I'm too hot."  
  
 _Yes, yes you are._ Anthony tried not to ogle Sören shirtless, and failed. The sight of those pierced nipples, and knowing how Sören responded to them being played with, went to Anthony's cock.  
  
"Actually, I worked up a bit of a sweat during the concert so, ah. I think I'm gonna go for a dip in the jacuzzi and relax. Want to come?" Sören quickly added, "With?"  
  
Anthony definitely wondered now if Sören was trying to seduce him, but kept his mouth shut. He followed Sören to the jacuzzi. They stripped down - as nervous as Anthony had once been about Sören seeing him naked with his scars, the alcohol took the edge off, and Sören didn't seem to mind at all. And Anthony definitely didn't mind the sight of Sören, though the heat and bubbles made him feel more melty and mellow than horny.  
  
"The concert was awesome," Anthony said. He reached over and patted Sören. " _You_ are fucking awesome for taking me."  
  
"I'm glad." Sören smiled. "I had fun. We should do that again sometime."  
  
"We should." Anthony sighed. He could get used to this, going away with Sören for the weekend. He felt that ache again, missing him.  
  
Then Sören made a face. "Won't be anytime soon, though. My job is gonna chain me to the grindstone to make up for the weekend I'm taking off, and I requested a week off in August."  
  
"Oh! What... what's happening in August?"  
  
"Nick and I are going to Iceland for a week."  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped. He knew there had been a time when Sören was convinced he'd never set foot again in his homeland, after what had happened there, and he knew that Sören being willing to go there for a week's vacation marked a major turning point in his healing process. He gave Sören a big hug, feeling glad for him. But then he felt that ache again - he was going to be without Sören visits for a whole week. _And if I hadn't fucked everything up in 2013, that would be us going._ Anthony gave a small sigh.  
  
"Actually, can you watch Toby for us when we go?" Sören pouted. "I don't want to be any trouble, but -"  
  
"Oh no, you're not. You know me, I love cats. Hell, I'd have seven cats if I could."  
  
Sören snorted. "Me too. Well, between the three of us, we're halfway there."  
  
Anthony felt another twinge, wishing he, Sören, and Nicholas lived in a place with Tobias, Seumas, and Miss Balls. One big happy, non-traditional family. But he knew that was asking too much.  
  
"I miss Tobias," Anthony said.  
  
"I do too, but Nick is spoiling him."  
  
"Yeah. I miss Seumas and Miss Balls. I feel kind of bad I'm away for an overnight when I haven't had Miss Balls a terribly long time, just a couple weeks. I hope she won't be pissed off at me."  
  
"Probably not. Especially not if you give her something yummy when you come back."  
  
But the cats were still on Anthony's mind when they got out of the tub, and he found himself firing off a text to Geir to ask how "the kids" were. Sören snickered when he saw what Anthony was doing.  
  
"And people say I'm a mother hen," Sören teased.  
  
"Well, you are. But..." Anthony sang. " _Maybe you're the same as me / We see things they'll never see..._ "  
  
" _You and I are kitty slaves forever..._ "  
  
Anthony laughed at that. Then Geir sent back a text that was just a picture of Miss Balls with a large dollop of wet food on her nose, and a smiley face emoji. Anthony showed Sören, who made an adorable high-pitched noise.  
  
"She's so cuuuuute! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I'm gonna die," Sören said.  
  
"She gets a food snoot every time she eats," Anthony said softly, feeling that warm, tender fuzzy feeling towards "his kids". "It's especially charming when I've had a stressful day at work and she comes over with her food snoot, like she knows I need cheering up."  
  
"Cats are the best. Toby makes my life so much better just by being in it."  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Cats are lifesavers."  
  
Sören's eyes widened and then he got that trollish look on his face, and Anthony had a feeling Sören was about to say or do something utterly ridiculous, drunk as he was. Sure enough, Sören broke out into song:  
  
 _I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me  
And after all, you're my Wonderballs_  
  
Anthony doubled over. " _Sören_."  
  
"What?"  
  
Anthony facepalmed, still laughing. "Sören, do you have to ruin every song in existence?"  
  
"Já?"  
  
Anthony laughed harder.  
  
Sören got up and staggered over to his duffel bag - Anthony noticed Sören wobbled on the way there. Anthony was about to ask Sören what he was doing but then he saw Sören take out a T-shirt and pair of boxer-briefs. Anthony looked down and realized he was still naked from the jacuzzi - they'd both been naked - and now he also got up to put on a pair of linen pajama bottoms. But he knew Sören wasn't particularly modest, and sure enough, Sören's visit to the duffel bag was for an ulterior motive. Anthony went into hysterics again when he saw Sören taking the googly-eyed pineapple bucket out of his duffel bag. "Sören... what in the _fuck_..."  
  
Sören blinked slowly, as if Anthony was the one being ridiculous and not him. "What?"  
  
"You... brought... the pineapple... on our trip..."  
  
"You brought George, didn't you?"  
  
"That's different."  
  
"No it's not." Sören patted the pineapple. "You're gonna hurt his feelings."  
  
"Oh... it's a boy?"  
  
"What, George can't be gay like his dad?"  
  
Anthony facepalmed. "So wait... wait... if George is gay, how did he make babies?" He was talking about the cottonball "Tribbles" after George had been in bed with Karen's wig - it took him a week to find them all and clean them out, as Sören had even put them in the closets and cupboards and breadbox.  
  
"I don't know, your gran thought..." Sören didn't finish the sentence, and Anthony knew Sören didn't know if he'd hit a nerve or not bringing up Anthony's late grandmother.  
  
But the memory of that particular night - Anthea insisting _"the gays can make babies now"_ and yelling " _CORNELIUS, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PUT A BABY IN HIM?_ " at Anthony - was a happy one, and Anthony nodded, laughing harder.  
  
Sören nodded, also chuckling, and then he turned to the pineapple and George and yelled, "ANANAS, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PUT A BABY IN HIM?"  
  
Anthony laughed so hard he gave himself a cramp. "Jesus _Christ_ , Sören..."  
  
Sören crawled onto the bed, also laughing, face red, tears streaming down his cheeks. They clung to each other as they laughed together, completely losing it. Sören started snorting, he was laughing so hard, and that made Anthony laugh even harder. For a moment Anthony worried that other people in the hotel would complain about the noise.  
  
When they calmed down, Sören propped himself up on one elbow and gave Anthony a naughty look. Anthony wondered what was up with that - it was the sort of look Sören sometimes got back when they were together and Sören was looking for sex. Anthony stopped wondering when Sören said, "Speaking of making babies..."  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
Sören ran a finger down Anthony's bare chest. "Fuck me," he husked.  
  
Anthony blinked. He couldn't believe it. After all this time he'd been waiting and pining and aching - fearing that Sören wouldn't give him a second chance in the end - those were the two words Anthony had been longing for with every fiber of his being.  
  
And yet, it was absolutely the wrong time. It wasn't just that it hadn't been a year yet, though that was part of it, with how many "close calls" they'd had - especially that sizzling hot kiss under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve, the passionate kiss on Anthony's birthday in February.  
  
"Sören, you're drunk," Anthony said.  
  
"Jæja."  
  
"You can't even walk in a straight line right now."  
  
"Nothing about me is straight."  
  
Anthony laughed - he'd missed those kinds of jokes so much - but then he quickly got serious again and gave Sören a stern look. If it had been anyone else laying there spread out like a feast, drunk - even Geir, or Nicholas - Anthony would still say no, it would bother his conscience. But _especially_ knowing Sören's history, with having been roofied in Reykjavik and waking up in an alley, Anthony did not want to touch Sören when he was like this. "Seriously, Sören. I mean it. You can't consent right now."  
  
"So you're saying I'm too fuck to drunk?"  
  
And then, of course, it dawned on Sören as he heard how drunk he was. Anthony nodded, laughing again, but still stern, unyielding. "Yes, Sören, that is exactly what I'm saying. You're too fuck to drunk." He booped Sören's nose. "Look. When you're sober again, if you still feel the same way - tomorrow, even - that's another story. But tonight..." Anthony shook his head. "I'm not going to take advantage of you."  
  
Sören blew a raspberry but then he nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have asked."  
  
Anthony also nodded, and sighed. He hoped Sören wasn't horny for him just because of the alcohol, and that, too, was another reason why they couldn't go there right now. "Let's get some rest." The relaxation of the hot tub was combining with the alcohol to make his eyes heavy.  
  
"OK."  
  
They turned out the lights and cuddled up together in bed, just holding each other. But Anthony couldn't fall asleep right away - he was sleepy but the proximity of Sören's body was making him a little horny, even as he was steeling his reserve to not go there, not now, not when Sören was like this. And Sören was still awake too. Awake and drunk, and started giggling.  
  
"What."  
  
"I should have brought my kazoo. Maybe we can't get it on, but George and Ananas -"  
  
"Oh my god, Sören, go the fuck to sleep."  
  
Sören gigglesnorted, and Anthony lost it again too. It was nice to fall asleep in Sören's arms, a smile on his face.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was not so nice to wake up with a hangover, enough so that when their alarm went off, Anthony hit the snooze button. And hit it again. And again. Finally Anthony just reset the alarm altogether.  
  
It was one thing to reset the alarm, it was another thing to wake up Sören once the alarm finally went off with just enough time for them to throw on clothes, call a cab, and make a mad dash for the train station. Sören was alive, but made grumpy noises and mumbled as he blocked each wakeup attempt with the pillow. Finally Anthony grabbed Sören and sat him up.  
  
"Sören, if we are getting back to London tonight in time for dinner we have to start leaving _now_."  
  
Sören finally looked at the clock and gasped. "Jesus Christ, Anthony, why didn't you wake me up?"  
  
"Ha. Ha."  
  
Sören groaned loudly as he got up, wincing, squinting at the light, pinching the bridge of his nose. Anthony quietly gave Sören some aspirin to take with his coffee. But even on the train, Sören was still obviously hungover - wearing dark sunglasses on the train ride home, looking half-asleep, just awake enough to be in agony.  
  
"Don't let me drink that much next time," Sören said.  
  
Anthony patted him. He both felt sorry for Sören and was pleased Sören had mentioned a "next time".  
  
But he'd been hoping that maybe they'd wake up earlier and Sören would still feel like making love and they could get a round in before boarding the train. Of course, they were both too hungover for that. Being hungover at thirty-six was a different experience than being hungover at sixteen. "I am too old for this shit," Anthony muttered as he leaned back in his chair, every part of his body aching.  
  
They were a little late for Sunday dinner, but not terribly. It was still later than Anthony would have liked to arrive. If they couldn't get a round of lovemaking in before they had to leave for the train, Anthony would have liked to talk with Sören about the "fuck me" request and if he meant that now that he was sober, and where to go from here. There was of course no room to have that talk with Sören before dinner, as the train didn't feel private enough to have that discussion and both of them were still sort of waking up, and there was no room for that conversation during dinner in front of everyone. By the time dinner was over and people were going home, it felt too late to have an involved discussion, but Anthony wanted to at least talk about having the talk, so he cornered Sören before he left.  
  
"Got a minute?" Anthony asked.  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
Anthony started off by hugging him again. "I wanted to thank you again for the concert. I had a lot of fun, both at the show and after, even if being hungover isn't particularly fun, I still have no regrets, really."  
  
"Good." Sören smiled. "Neither do I."  
  
"Yeah, about that." Anthony sighed. "Do you... remember... what you said last night?"  
  
Sören smirked. "'Ananas, when are you going to put a baby in George?'"  
  
Anthony facepalmed. He should have known Sören would take that opportunity to be a troll. He gave Sören a playful swat and Sören stuck his tongue out, and Anthony fought back the urge to say _don't stick that tongue out at me if you don't plan on using it_. Anthony folded his arms and tried to be serious. "No. The other thing."  
  
Sören ran a hand through his curls and glanced off to the side and just nodded. Then he looked back at Anthony and looked down. Now Sören, too, folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. "Thank you for being a gentleman."  
  
Anthony wanted to say _I want to know how much longer we're going to be gentlemen_ , but he decided not to. He suddenly felt very shy - it didn't help that Sören looked a little embarrassed about saying it - and he decided not to press the subject further. Instead, he put his feelers out for a better time to discuss the subject. "So you said you're going to be working a lot to compensate for this weekend? I won't get to see you as much then?"  
  
Sören nodded. He pulled out his cell phone to double-check his schedule. "The earliest time I'd be able to hang out with you is Sunday afternoon, before the usual Sunday evening dinner."  
  
"I'm free if you want to get together."  
  
"I do." Their eyes met. "Anything you'd like to do?"  
  
 _You._ Anthony swallowed hard, not sure if that was innuendo or not, and didn't want to push his luck. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, and he thought for a minute of something they could do together - a way they could talk, perhaps, that didn't feel like a "we're going out to have A Talk" rendezvous. He thought of when they had tried a few dates before Sören insisted on them waiting a year - seeing the pelicans at St. James's Park. "You want to go see the pelicans getting fed?"  
  
Sören nodded. "Sure. We can do a picnic, like we've done before?"  
  
"Sounds good. Uh... what time?"  
  
"One-thirty, so we have time to get there before the pelican feeding?" Sören smiled. "And so I have a little time to say hi to your furbabies before we leave?"  
  
"OK." Anthony smiled, thinking of how warm Sören was with the cats. So adorable. _They should be our kids. Together._ Anthony bit his lower lip. "I'll see you on Sunday then."  
  
They hugged, and every nerve in Anthony's body screamed for Sören's touch. When Anthony got back to his and Geir's flat, he stopped in the bathroom and brought himself off. He could have asked Geir to take care of him but he felt guilty about having sex with Geir when he was fantasizing about Sören. It wasn't that he didn't want Geir anymore, but it wasn't the same.  
  
After his release, Anthony sat on his bed and sighed, feeling that same ache he felt every other time he'd masturbated to Sören - physically sated but emotionally hungry, missing Sören even more. Seumas came over for hugs and sat on Anthony's shoulders. "Nya?" Seumas asked, moving his face in for a headbutt.  
  
"Yeah," Anthony said, skritching Seumas's whisker pads and chin. "I'm all right. Just a bad case of lovesickness." _I think it's terminal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss Balls is another cat with an IRL counterpart. The real-life version doesn't get along with "Seumas" nearly so well, lol.
> 
> Also here, don't say I never gave you guys anything:
> 
>   
> 


	38. Someday Is Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I have been waiting to write this chapter for over a year (since I began planning out the Learning To Fly verse in November 2019).
> 
> Trigger warning: in this chapter there is an incident with an ableist asshole who uses a slur. In the event this is going to be upsetting, the portion starts at _But before he could get out his cell phone to call one, there was Steve._ and ends with _Steve was walking backwards, twirling the cane like a baton, laughing._
> 
> (Also, fyi, yours truly is disabled [I use a cane], so don't yell at me.)

The days leading up from the nineteenth to the twenty-sixth of June felt like one of the longest crawls of Sören's life. He knew what he'd said after the Oasis concert, and though he was drunk, he also meant it. Sören hadn't planned to seduce Anthony going in - the hotel really only had one room available, and that room coincidentally had a jacuzzi - but he knew once he was there that even though it had been a little less than a year, it had been long enough. Anthony had earned his trust back. Sören could never forget what happened in 2013, but he had forgiven. He was willing to take the risk of a second chance. And last weekend, he had _wanted_. But Anthony was a gentleman and had turned him down, not wanting to take advantage of him while drunk.  
  
They needed to talk about that - as Sören walked to Geir and Anthony's flat, every nerve in his body was screaming just to skip the talking point at all, drag Anthony to bed, and fuck him senseless. But they really did need to talk, and after working so many hours, Sören needed a chance to relax _first_ , before doing the heavy lifting.  
  
He was arriving a little earlier than one-thirty to do just that. He wanted to see the kitties. He also wanted to see Anthony. Sören missed him.  
  
Anthony opened the door before Sören got out his key, wearing his ancient Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. He gestured for Sören to come in and immediately Seumas trotted over for pettings. Sören set down the cooler of picnic food and took a seat on the couch. Seumas climbed onto him for hugs. "Can I get you anything before we go?" Anthony asked, leaning on his cane.  
  
Sören shook his head. "I just need to sit and chill for a few minutes, if that's OK. Let me spoil your babies."  
  
"Of course." Anthony grinned and took a seat next to Sören. The proximity of him made Sören's cock stir, and though Anthony was dressed very casual, he was wearing a touch of cologne and definitely smelled like sex.  
  
Sören hugged Seumas and stroked him, until Seumas climbed onto his shoulders, purring hard. Miss Balls came over for love, and once she was up on the couch getting stroked by them, Seumas got down as if to protest that another cat was getting attention. But a moment later Seumas came back, and this time he was carrying something in his mouth. As he got closer to the couch Sören got a good look at what it was - a small pineapple made out of fuzzy cloth. Sören's jaw dropped.  
  
Anthony took the pineapple toy and tossed it, cackling. Then he gave Sören a pointed look. "I guess Ananas put a baby in George."  
  
Sören gigglesnorted, and they laughed together. Sören was tempted to kiss him right then, but he held back. "I can't even," Sören said. "That was... well played. Very well played."  
  
Anthony took a small bow. "Shall I call the cab, or do you want to?"  
  
"I'll do it," Sören said. He tried to get serious enough to call the cab, but kept giggling as he watched Seumas bat the pineapple around and carry it in his mouth, howling.  
  
"Kill it," Anthony encouraged the cat.  
  
The cab company dispatcher overheard Anthony and stopped reciting back pickup details and said, "Er."  
  
"Oh. Oh no, he's talking to the cat, we're not murderers or anything," Sören said, and Anthony laughed even harder. But then Sören remembered his dreams of "before" - burning the boats - and a chill went through him.  
  
 _Those were just dreams. Stop that shit._  
  
Once pickup details were confirmed, Sören pushed away the memories of the all-too-vivid dreams and watched Seumas play, stroking Miss Balls. He wondered if Anthony was going to bring up last weekend, but he didn't, and Sören felt a bit awkward about bringing it up just yet. They managed to ride down to the park without last weekend coming up in conversation.  
  
It didn't come up at the park, either. It was a beautiful summer day, as if the tourism bureau of London had conjured it themselves to entice new visitors. It was warm without being uncomfortable. The sky was a bright blue, with only a very few wispy clouds. The trees and grass were a vibrant green, and the park bloomed with wildflowers and cultivated roses of different colors. The world felt _alive_ , and Sören felt glad to be alive. He felt even more glad as they watched the pelicans being fed - no matter how many times Sören saw the pelican feeding it still cracked him up to watch them chase the fish around, snapping their scoop bills, pouches wobbling, making grunts and snorts. Anthony laughed too, and it lit up his entire face. It was so good to see him in better spirits than he was a year ago - his life had changed, radically, but he'd been learning to adapt. He'd been thriving, these last few months, not merely surviving.  
  
After the pelicans were fed, the humans ate. The lunch Sören had packed - made by Nicholas - was reminiscent of the picnic they'd first had here a year ago. The sandwiches were prosciutto with provolone, pesto, and fresh basil leaves on ciabatta, and chicken, bacon, avocado and spinach on French bread. Anthony had brought a side of assorted fresh vegetables and cubes of different cheeses, and Anthony had also brought lemon cupcakes.  
  
"Did your mum make these?" Sören asked.  
  
"No. I did."  
  
Sören's eyebrows shot up.  
  
Anthony nodded. "I'm not, you know, on par with Nicholas in the kitchen, but I'm learning."  
  
Sören knew what a big step that was and gave him a hug, fiercely proud of him. Once again, he was tempted to kiss Anthony but held back.  
  
They ate in companionable silence, taking in the beauty of the park around them, and the hilarity of the pelicans continuing to waddle around at their pond. Sören kept looking for the right moment to bring up last weekend, and his request, but there wasn't really one - that would be an intense conversation even if it went well, and Sören didn't want to disrupt the peaceful, easy feeling of the picnic. It was indeed one of those moments where Sören could forget about everything else going on in the world and just _be_ with good food, good scenery, and good company. This was exactly what he needed after a stressful workweek, and he imagined Anthony needed it too.  
  
They still had some time to kill before the family-of-choice would gather at Sören and Nicholas's for family dinner. As eager as Sören was to spend more time with Anthony's cats, he wanted to take a little detour first - they hadn't been to Starbucks in months and the temperature was starting to go up a little and an iced coffee sounded refreshing. So that was what they did.  
  
Anthony took a table and Sören went up for both of them, getting an iced hazelnut with no whip for Anthony and an iced chocolate espresso with whipped cream for himself. It was busy on a Sunday afternoon, a bit busier than Sören would have liked, and he saw Anthony glancing around the room, looking a bit nervous. Then their eyes met and Anthony tried not to grin as he sipped at his drink.  
  
"What?" Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
Anthony stopped trying to hold back the smile. "You have whipped cream on your nose."  
  
"Jesus." Sören wiped his nose, not able to believe he'd done it _again_. But Anthony's eyes were soft, his cheeks a little pink, and he reached over and booped Sören's nose after Sören wiped it. Now Sören's face was on fire for an entirely different reason and he decided this was the window he needed for the "where do we go from here" talk. People or no people, the time was now.  
  
Just as Sören opened his mouth, Anthony's eyes caught something in the cafe, then his eyes widened with alarm and he hissed, "oh _shiiiiiiit_ ".  
  
Before Sören could ask what it was, his gaze landed on Steve, Anthony's former friend - and arguably the biggest asshole in Anthony's former friends group next to Trisha. Steve was short, with a mop of auburn hair, light brown eyes, a cleft chin, and a default facial expression that always seemed a bit smug. He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt and black trousers, and appeared to be alone, though he was checking his watch like he was waiting for someone. Sören bit back the urge to spit like an angry cat, all the old nasty feelings about Anthony's old "squad" and the damage they'd done to his and Anthony's relationship, rushing back to him.  
  
And before Sören could suggest to just act casual, Steve seemed to sense he was being stared at and now he looked back at them and got the same sort of amused, aloof smile on his face that Sören recognized with Anthony just before Anthony made a "gotcha".  
  
That was not good. That was not good at all. That suggested trouble. All the warning bells in Sören's head were going off now, his stomach a pit of ice.  
  
Sören and Anthony looked at each other across the table. Sören took a sip of his drink and got up. "Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."  
  
Anthony nodded and rose from the table on his cane. They walked out of the cafe with their drinks, and Sören was just going to wait out here for a cab - Anthony had already done a lot of walking today. But before Sören could get out his cell phone to call one, there was Steve.  
  
"Anthony. Bro. You're just gonna walk out without saying hi first?" Steve made a noise, pretending to be offended. "Rude."  
  
"Steve... leave us alone." Anthony glared at him.  
  
Steve snorted. "Or what? You're gonna act tough in front of your boyfriend here, show off with a little fisticuffs? Or maybe use those advanced mind powers that the media likes to portray all crips as developing to compensate? You gonna go Professor X on my arse, huh?"  
  
"He doesn't need powers to be more advanced than you, you ignorant fucking amoeba," Sören snapped, wanting to slap him.  
  
Steve laughed like he found this hilarious. "So you guys are back together, huh? Did you take pity on him?"  
  
"I missed his big cock," Sören said. That wasn't entirely a lie, but it was also not the sort of thing he'd announce as the reason for them getting back together, since it had never been just sex with them. However, he'd always gotten the sense Steve was just a little homophobic - Anthony had been the token gay friend to show the world he wasn't a bigot - and sure enough, Steve seemed uncomfortable thinking about it.  
  
"Can he even get it up anymore? You know, being crippled and all."  
  
"Steve... you're bloody pathetic." Anthony gave him a look of utter contempt. "You bore me, go find something to do."  
  
"Oh no. This is _very_ entertaining." And with that, Steve lunged forward and grabbed Anthony's cane away from him. "I always wanted to watch a crip dance -"  
  
Anthony, of course, needed that cane for balance because of his spine, and without it he started to fall. Just before he could hit the pavement, Sören dipped and caught him. Anthony was breathing harder, pupils blown wide, having a panic attack from the near-fall, and Sören's eyes teared up, furious for that... knowing it was triggering the hurt, bullied boy that Anthony had once been. Anthony's own eyes were too bright and Sören found himself babbling, trying to soothe Anthony before he could have a meltdown right there on the street and cause a scene and make this even worse for himself. "Shhh, it's all right," Sören said. "I got you. You didn't fall. I caught you. I got you. You're safe in my arms. You're safe, I got you..."  
  
Steve was walking backwards, twirling the cane like a baton, laughing.  
  
"HEY!" Sören shouted down the street. "YOU GIVE THAT BACK, YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!"  
  
Steve laughed harder. "Come and get it," he said.  
  
 _Oh, I will. Believe me, I bloody fucking will._ But Sören's first priority was Anthony. He started to maneuver to get both of them up, and then he helped Anthony back inside to sit at a table, since Anthony needed to sit. Some passerby who had been watching the whole thing asked, "Is he all right?" on the way in and Sören snapped, "Jæja, he's fine," grateful for their concern but he knew Anthony was just getting embarrassed.  
  
When Anthony was seated, he took a few deep breaths, looking on the verge of falling apart. "Sören, I -"  
  
" _Wait here,_ " Sören said. He was wearing short sleeves, or he would have rolled his sleeves up. He reached in his shorts pocket for an elastic and quickly put his hair into a loose, messy "man bun" so it couldn't be used against him as a weapon.  
  
Sören began to march towards the exit. "Where are you going?" Anthony called out.  
  
" _Hann er um það bil að komast að því hvað 'koma og ná í það' þýðir._ "  
  
Six feet and seventy-seven kilograms of a furious man descended directly from Vikings began to stalk down the street like he owned it. Not only had Steve bullied the man he loved, but it seemed in those moments that Steve represented all bigots who bullied people in marginalized groups; people like Steve were part of the reason why disabled people were so often afraid to even admit being disabled, let alone seek the sort of appropriate help and care they needed. Sören's fists clenched and his blood boiled. Steve was going to rue the day he'd chosen to take Anthony's cane away from him. Steve was going to rue the day he was born.  
  
A still, small voice found its way through the roaring fire in Sören's mind. _If you get in a fight with him, he could hurt you. You could hurt him. You could end up in jail. You can buy Anthony another shark cane -_  
  
 _SHUT UP_ , Sören yelled at himself. It wasn't even about getting the cane back, at this point - though obviously Anthony needed it and Sören was determined to get it and avoid the hassle of a replacement. It was about standing up to this disgusting person who Anthony had once thought of as a friend... who'd so clearly betrayed him.  
  
Steve was just dancing on the street corner now, doing a little Fred Astaire routine with the cane as some onlookers gave him a hard time. "You should be ashamed of yourself," a middle-aged woman said. "Mate, that ain't right," a young man said.  
  
Sören was just a few feet away now. Steve stopped his dance and made jazz hands. He grinned as he said, "I guess you're not a coward after -"  
  
Before Steve could say "all", Sören's fist connected with Steve's face. Steve almost fell - he held his face, that smug look back on it - and then, looking as if Sören had committed some type of royal offense by punching him, Steve took a swing. Sören ducked, and Steve took another swing, getting Sören in the shoulder. But even as Sören felt the impact to his shoulder, he was in such a state of pure adrenaline he felt almost impervious to pain. He found himself kneeing Steve right in the crotch, and as Steve wobbled, Sören shoved him so Steve took a spill on the pavement.  
  
Steve let go of the cane and Sören grabbed it away, then smacked him with it right in the face, making Steve's nose bleed. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Sören screamed. " _Þú ógeðslegi skíthæll sem þorir að kalla sig mannveru! Þurftir þú að taka reyr mannsins míns til að bæta upp fyrir pínulítinn liminn þinn?_ "  
  
Sören realized he'd just called Anthony his husband, but he wasn't about to take it back. Steve was starting to look at him with something like terror, and Sören lifted the cane, thinking about bringing it down over Steve's head, wondering if the metal shark would knock him out or at least leave a nasty egg.  
  
But that didn't seem satisfying enough. In Sören's mind's eye, he saw himself choking Steve, wishing he could get away with it.  
  
And then Steve began to choke, for real. Sören was not grabbing him by the throat or strangling him with a clothing article, nor was he in any sort of position that could make Steve choke like that. All he'd done was just think about how satisfying it was to choke Steve. Sören lowered the cane, not striking. He looked at one empty hand, then the other hand just holding the cane. He was standing a few inches away, not making any sort of physical contact.  
  
It suddenly smelled of woodsmoke, like something was on fire, or about to be.  
  
At first Sören wondered if Steve was just faking it so Sören would back down and then Steve could go on the offensive - one of the oldest tricks in the book - but then Steve's face was turning red, eyes bulging, and the labored breathing couldn't be faked. _He'll die, and you'll be charged with murder._ Sören quickly conjured the mental image of "letting go" of his chokehold and Steve breathing normally again, and a few seconds later Steve stopped choking, and coughed until he was breathing again - shaking from fear. Sören recognized the acrid stench of piss, and looked down at the wet spot in Steve's trousers. He couldn't help but smile at that. But he knew it wasn't a pleasant smile. He imagined it was like a wolf smiling at its dinner.  
  
Steve raised a trembling finger and gasped out, "What... wh... _what are you?_ "  
  
Part of Sören thought that was a very odd question - even though he was sure Steve knew the sudden choking was very odd indeed - but then, not thinking, Sören replied. " _Ég er andi elds. Ef þú hefðir ekki drýgt svona alvarlegar syndir, þá hefði alheimurinn ekki sent mig til að refsa þér._ "  
  
Sören decided not to punch him again, only because Steve had been choking just a moment ago. In English, Sören added, "By the way, if you call the police, there are plenty of bystanders here who will say you started it."  
  
"Yeah!" "Damn right!" called some voices from the gathered crowd.  
  
"You assaulted a gay _and_ disabled person, that's a hate crime," Sören said. "So you'd just be causing a lot of trouble for yourself."  
  
"I don't need the police, I need a fucking priest," Steve said, and he started making the sign of the cross with his fingers like it would do anything.  
  
Sören laughed. He stuck out his tongue like he was Gene Simmons and made little horns on the sides of his head with index fingers, then changed it to his middle fingers. He spat, and then he was on his way, raising the cane in triumph to cheers, whistles, and wild applause. A teenage boy wearing Burberry and a cap ran up ahead of him.  
  
Just as Sören approached the door of the Starbucks, he was stopped by the boy who'd run up ahead, who was now lighting up a cigarette. Sören made a face at the stench, but the boy held out his fist to give Sören a fist bump, and Sören let him. "You were like a bloody superhero," the boy said. "Do you always keep those... special effects, whatever they are... on hand for the superhero moments? Contacts? Some sort of cybernetic implant? Whatever it was, it was bloody awesome."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh come on now, I was down there watching you. Those orange eyes. Looked like your eyes were on fire. No wonder he pissed himself. I almost pissed meself laughing, it was _brilliant_ -"  
  
A chill went down Sören's spine, his hair standing on end. He wanted to chalk up what the boy said to hallucination - the boy's or his own. But that wasn't so easy. Sören gave a nervous little laugh - he was screaming internally - and he walked back into the cafe, tossing the cane from one hand to the other before he gave it to Anthony. Anthony gave him a stunned look as he sat down.  
  
"How...?"  
  
Sören narrowed his eyes. " _You're mine_ ," Sören growled, again, not thinking. That was all the explanation he was going to give - for now - and that was all the explanation Anthony needed.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Somebody had taken the empty cooler while Sören dealt with Steve, but Sören considered that a small price to pay for the return of Anthony's cane, and Steve's sound defeat.  
  
In the cab on the way to Nicholas and Sören's flat, Anthony finally gave into the meltdown he'd been holding back, though he tried to keep his tears quiet, not wanting to disturb the cab driver. Sören held Anthony close and rocked him, pet him, aching for him - as good as it felt to teach that bully Steve a lesson, he wished it hadn't been necessary in the first place. Sören knew that the attack would have been upsetting to Anthony regardless but it hurt that much more coming from someone he used to be friends with, and Sören's heart broke for that.  
  
But as they got closer to the building, Sören's mind drifted from the incident with Steve to feeling like something had been unleashed inside him. It was a little scary - but powerful. Exhilarating. So much so that he felt even more alive than he had in the park...  
  
...and he felt _horny_.  
  
The proximity of Anthony's body against his, and that protective, possessive urge towards him... Sören shuddered. He wanted to drag Anthony off like a caveman and claim him, and be claimed, in every position possible. He wanted to make Anthony scream and make a mess all over both of them, the ceiling and the wall.  
  
He was temporarily distracted by the usual Sunday night dinner, the company and the pleasantries. Anthony tried to pull himself together but he was still noticeably upset and finally Geir broached the subject. "What happened?"  
  
"He ran into one of his ex-friends," Sören said before Anthony could answer - he could tell the usually erudite Anthony was struggling for words.  
  
Then Anthony found his words, nodding. "He took my cane. Sören... got it back."  
  
"It's why I came back without the cooler we took lunch in," Sören said. "Someone took it -"  
  
Nicholas waved a hand dismissively, nodding to let Sören know he understood. "It's all right, darling, it can be easily replaced. What's not all right is what happened to Anthony. What kind of wretched _cretin_ would steal someone's cane?" Nicholas glared - Sören found that glare incredibly sexy. He wanted them both at the same time. _Stop that,_ Sören told himself.  
  
"Steve," Anthony said. "Steve is that kind of... wretched cretin."  
  
Nicholas sniffed and made a noise into his tea. "I do hope you gave him a hard time, Sören."  
  
"Oh, I did." Sören flashed that wolfish smile again. "I made him piss himself. My only regret is I wasn't able to give him the Doc Marten Dental Plan." He pointed to his boots.  
  
Anthony laughed at this and facepalmed, shaking his head. "Never change, Sören."  
  
But then their eyes met, and Anthony looked at him with such _worship_ that Sören had to fight off the urge to put down his tea, grab Anthony and kiss him. Sören finally took down his hair, shaking it loose, and Anthony reached out to play with a curl; Sören touched Anthony's cheek.  
  
"You gonna be OK?" Sören asked.  
  
Anthony nodded. "I already feel better now that I'm... you know. In a safe place." He patted Sören, and Sören could almost hear the unvoiced _You are my safe place._  
  
After dinner, to help further soothe Anthony following his ordeal, Sören grabbed the weighted blanket he kept by the couch and shared it with him. He pulled Anthony's head onto his shoulder and they cuddled up together under the blanket. Nicholas smiled at them, his eyes warm, and eventually Geir said, "You guys are so cute."  
  
Anthony managed a smile, and Sören put an arm around him. Under the blanket, Sören's other hand took Anthony's hand, and Anthony squeezed his hand. A few minutes later, when their hands let go, Sören's hand rested on Anthony's knee, and he found himself rubbing Anthony's knee in slow, lazy circles - what was meant to be a comforting touch, but had turned sensual.  
  
The guests left earlier than usual, as if they could sense the sexual tension in the air. Geir announced to Anthony he was going over to Ben and Pierre's for the night "so you have the place to yourself". Anthony quickly looked at Sören after that was said, and Sören knew then another window had opened for them to have that talk.  
  
Sören followed Nicholas into the kitchen and helped him clean up. Sören gave him a hug and little kisses, and when Anthony excused himself to the bathroom, so they were completely alone in the open plan kitchen and living area, Nicholas paused for a moment to give Sören a tight, lingering hug, petting his curls. He rubbed his nose in Sören's hair and kissed the top of his head. "I'm very proud of you for dealing with that bully," Nicholas said.  
  
" _Takk_. I couldn't let him get away with it, even if it meant I was going to get in trouble, but... I don't think he'll call the police." Sören remembered Steve making the sign of the cross with his fingers sitting on the sidewalk, terror in his eyes, a wet spot in his trousers. _What are you?_ Sören's hair stood on end again, wondering if he'd hallucinated all of that in his adrenaline rush. It would be kinder if he had, he didn't want to entertain the possibility that he'd done _something_.  
  
Nicholas patted him. When they pulled apart, Nicholas put his hands on Sören's shoulders and gave him a very serious look. "Sören, go visit Anthony tonight. I suspect you and he need to talk about things."  
  
Sören took a deep breath. He hadn't told Nicholas about how he'd said "fuck me" to Anthony last weekend and Anthony had declined because he was drunk - but now, looking into Nicholas's eyes, it was like he knew where things were going.  
  
"OK," Sören said. "I'll be back later -"  
  
"You can spend the night," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören's eyebrows went up.  
  
Nicholas nodded. "The way the two of you were looking at each other all evening... it's time."  
  
Sören chuckled. "OK. I can't guarantee -"  
  
Nicholas gave him a _you've got to be kidding_ look. "Sören... please."  
  
Sören laughed some more and ran a nervous hand through his curls, feeling like he'd been caught.  
  
When Anthony came back from the bathroom, Sören asked, "Is it all right if I go back with you, so we can discuss a few things?"  
  
Anthony nodded, keeping his expression neutral.  
  
They were quiet on the way to the flat. Once they got in, Anthony fed Seumas and Miss Balls. Sören lingered in the kitchen instead of sitting down, feeling the tension crackle between them like static electricity. When the cat food was served, Anthony leaned on his cane. "So..." Anthony cleared his throat, looking a little nervous.  
  
And though Sören had come to talk, emotion overcame him again. All his words went out the window and feeling was all there was. Impulse. Sören marched towards Anthony, slammed him against the kitchen wall, and kissed him hungrily, fiercely. Anthony moaned and shivered, his hips instinctively thrusting forward against Sören's. Sören groaned into the kiss. Their tongues played together more insistently, like they were trying to fuck each other in the kiss. This was definitely no time for words. It was the time to give into that hot sexual need that they'd been fighting for the last year.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing hard, looking into each other's eyes. Anthony's eyes had that expression of worship again, of wonder, and Sören's own eyes misted as he looked at Anthony, knew he'd been ready to kill for this man earlier that day... knowing he would not just kill for him but die for him if it came to that, and he believed, truly, that Anthony felt the same way, would do the same for him. He had doubted Anthony's loyalty in 2013 when what happened, happened. He didn't doubt anymore. The moment of truth had come, in the most visceral way possible. When Sören had marched upon Steve to get Anthony's cane back, his heart had pounded like a war drum, the battle cry of _you hurt what is_ _ **mine**_ _._  
  
" _Bróðir minn_ ," Sören husked, revisiting their shared dreams... and the kinky roleplaying game they'd indulged in years ago.  
  
Anthony rested the cane on the wall beside him, grabbed Sören's face, and kissed him back, passionately. Sören groaned again. He reached between them to slide his hands over Anthony's body, wishing Anthony was naked, but even through the fabric, Sören's touch made Anthony tremble.  
  
Anthony and Sören looked at each other, dazed, and then Anthony said, "Right," grabbed his cane with one hand, Sören's wrist with the other, and began walking him upstairs to the bedroom.  
  
As soon as they stepped into Anthony's bedroom they were kissing again. Anthony leaned against the bed to support himself and he and Sören undressed each other, hands feverishly exploring, caressing the exposed flesh. Anthony climbed onto the bed, laying on his back, and Sören climbed over him, and Anthony pulled him into another deep, needy kiss. They both moaned at the feel of their hard cocks together, and Anthony gasped as Sören reached down between them to take their cocks into his fist, stroking slowly.  
  
"God, Sören..." Anthony's breath caught. He looked into Sören's eyes with that awe and wonder again; Sören's free hand touched his face, Sören smiling at him tenderly. "I never thought I'd..."  
  
"Shhhhh." Sören kissed his brow, then the tip of his nose, then claimed his mouth again. "Here we are."  
  
"It hasn't been a year yet," Anthony said, raising an eyebrow with a mock disapproving glance.  
  
"It's felt like a few _thousand_ years, so I win on a technicality." Sören nibbled Anthony's lower lip.  
  
Anthony laughed at this, his entire face lighting up. He shook his head, smiling. "You complain about me always being in lawyer mode, but you sound like a lawyer right now yourself."  
  
"I might have some lawyer in me."  
  
"Oh, you're definitely going to have some lawyer in you," Anthony said, and kissed Sören again, both of them laughing into the kiss before they moaned. Sören's grip tightened on their cocks, stroking just a little harder.  
  
"Mmmmm, yes. But first..." Sören started kissing Anthony's neck. "I want to take what's mine."  
  
Anthony shuddered and his breath hitched. His eyes met Sören's and he nodded vehemently before grinning and giving Sören a little kiss. Then he moaned again as Sören resumed kissing and licking his neck. "But even before that..." Sören kissed Anthony's shoulder. "I want to love you. It's been too long."  
  
Anthony's breath caught again. He stroked Sören's face, played with a curly lock. "I was so afraid you wouldn't want me like this."  
  
Sören regarded the scarring - the jagged, thick scar on Anthony's left shoulder, the one that started near his sternum and led all the way down near the armpit. The light lattice of scarring on his forearms. His fingers traced the scars and then he licked them, gave little kisses. Anthony closed his eyes and tears silently spilled down his cheeks. He whispered " _thank you_."  
  
"I think it just makes you look sexy," Sören said honestly. "Like... some kind of warrior or something." Sören grinned. "We could play Saxons and Vikings."  
  
Anthony smiled through his tears, and now he was laughing again. "I swear to god, Sören."  
  
"Right, you're part Scottish - Celts and Vikings? You'd look hot in a kilt."  
  
Anthony laughed harder and he swatted Sören's ass.  
  
Then Sören rubbed his nose in the growth of dark hair on Anthony's chest - not as much of a pelt as Nicholas, but still a healthy amount. "Also, you are never allowed to wax again."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
Sören started licking the chest hair and Anthony gasped and groaned. "God. You get me so fucking hot." Sören kissed Anthony's throat again, then back down to the chest, continuing to rub his nose in the hair, lick it. He turned his attention to one nipple, and his thumb and finger played with it as he lapped and suckled the other. Anthony's moans got louder and he started thrusting into Sören's hand. Sören's own cock throbbed, dripping precum - Sören felt ready to explode and they'd barely gotten started.  
  
Sören continued to tease and pleasure Anthony's nipples, then feasted on the rest of his body, kissing, licking, caressing his stomach, thighs, knees, calves. Sören moved back up, enjoying the way Anthony trembled and moaned and sighed at his tender loving care, and rubbed his nose in Anthony's thick, luxurious dark bush, giving him more honest reassurance about the body hair. "So sexy. So. Fucking. Gorgeous." When he took Anthony's cock into his mouth he reached down to stroke himself, going out of his mind with lust at the look on Anthony's face, the sounds he made, worshiping the beautiful, perfect cock in his mouth, sucking slowly, lovingly.  
  
"Sören." Anthony stroked Sören's face, pet his curls, before shivering and moaning again. "Sören, love..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören pulled Anthony's cock out of his mouth to lick it. "You don't know _how_ much I've missed this." He put Anthony's cock back in his mouth and sucked harder, faster.  
  
Anthony got more vocal - Sören loved the way he panted and gasped as he got closer. Sören started playing with Anthony's balls, rubbing his tongue as he sucked, stroking his own cock harder. When Anthony pulled Sören's curls, Sören braced himself, wanting to taste, but then Anthony ground out, "Sören... I need you inside me."  
  
Sören stopped sucking. His cock jolted at the memory of how good Anthony had felt wrapped around him.  
  
"Now," Anthony gasped. "Now, please, now..."  
  
Sören's own breath caught. That urgent plea brought out the beast in him. Sören slammed the endtable drawer open, got out the lube, and readied them both, with fierce kisses. Sören slid a pillow under Anthony's hips and moved the tip of his cock to the opening.  
  
As Sören slid into him, their mouths opened and their eyes locked. Sören felt almost reverent, like he was entering sacred ground. When Sören was all the way inside, Anthony threw his arms around him and they kissed deeply.  
  
Sören took a few slow thrusts, not wanting to come too soon, almost undone by the silken heat. But soon Anthony was shaking with need, whispering "Sören, oh god, Sören, I love you, I need you so much," and Sören gave in to that animal instinct, slamming into him, stroking Anthony's cock as he thrusted harder and harder. One of Anthony's hands was on Sören's, guiding the hand on his cock, and the other was fisting Sören's hair, claiming him as much as he was being claimed. "Oh god. Just like that..."  
  
" _Fuck._ " Sören shuddered, the tension building. He grit his teeth, needing to hold back, wanting Anthony to come first. Wanting to make this last, this first time after so long. Sören started biting Anthony's neck, not caring if he left marks that his colleagues would see. " _Bróðir minn._ "  
  
"God, _yes_..." Now Anthony's nails were in his back. "My brother..."  
  
"Mine. _Mine._ " Sören let out a primal, feral growl, biting Anthony's neck again, soothing and teasing with his tongue. "Always mine."  
  
"Oh god." Anthony's eyes widened and he made a little high-pitched noise, followed by a deeper groan. Their eyes met, and Sören knew he was right there at that point of no return. Sören let him have it, pounding even harder, balls slapping against him. "Oh god!" Now Anthony was biting Sören's shoulder, and Sören loved it, groaning appreciatively as he banged away, losing himself in the heat between them. "My brother," Anthony panted. "My brother... my brother..."  
  
Sören was right there too. He needed to come, and he needed Anthony to come. He kissed Anthony hard, then he spoke the words that he knew would be Anthony's undoing. "Does my little brother like that?" Even though Sören was younger, Anthony had always been "the little brother" in their kinky game.  
  
"Oh _fuck_..." Anthony nodded and gasped.  
  
"Mmmmm, see, your big brother takes care of you. Your big brother rescues you from bullies, then takes you home and gives you his hard cock..."  
  
That did it. Anthony's nails raked down Sören's back as he cried out, "Sören, yes, _yes_..." He threw his head back and let out a shuddery sigh as his seed spilled over Sören's chest and stomach.  
  
With a deep groan, Sören spent inside him. They kissed and took each other's hands as the orgasm pulsed through them. Then they started crying together, both shattered.  
  
"I love you," Anthony said. "Oh god, Sören, I love you, I've missed you so much..."  
  
"I love you." Sören kissed him again. "You've got me now. We did it. We're together..."  
  
Anthony's arms wrapped around him, tightened, squeezed. They laughed and cried, nuzzling, kissing each other's tears. The world seemed to glow in the euphoria of their pleasure, their love, their joy in finding their way back to each other, their bond even stronger than before.  
  
Tangled up together, they dozed off. Sören got woken up a little while later by Anthony kissing his neck, grinding against his thigh. "I want you," Anthony growled.  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören kissed him. "I want you too, _elskan_."  
  
Anthony tugged on one of Sören's nipple rings before his thumb teased the nub, hardening it. Sören's cock was hardening too, and Sören kissed him again. When Anthony began kissing Sören's neck again Sören gasped and shuddered, wanting Anthony so badly it almost hurt.  
  
Then Seumas stood at the bedroom door. "Nya."  
  
Anthony exhaled. "Seumas, please."  
  
" _Nya._ "  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes. "I just fed you arseholes not that long ago."  
  
"Nya."  
  
Anthony squinted at the alarm clock next to the bed. "It's two hours before I usually give them food for overnight."  
  
"His sense of time has probably been thrown off because you were gone all day," Sören said. "Or he can see the bottom of his dish."  
  
Anthony rose up on his cane, grumbling. "Come on, you dick," Anthony said to the cat.  
  
"Nya," Seumas said, trotting ahead eagerly.  
  
Sören waited, idly stroking himself. He was already raring to go again, his cock dripping precum by the time Anthony walked back in. Anthony licked his lips at the sight of it, and Sören smiled, collecting a drop of precum on his finger and tasting it.  
  
"Uh..." Anthony leaned on the cane and shifted his weight. "As I was coming back upstairs I realized I should have asked you if you wanted something to eat or drink before I went down to feed the cats."  
  
Sören ran his thumb over his frenulum and his cock twitched. "I'm hungry for something else."  
  
"Well then." Anthony propped up his cane and rejoined Sören on the bed. A few kisses later, and Anthony gave a little growl into Sören's neck. "I want to take you from behind." Their eyes met. "If that's all right."  
  
"That's... that's more than all right." Sören had only ever let a few lovers have him that way, as the position required a certain amount of trust and he didn't give that casually. But when the trust was there, it was exhilarating... and the trust was there now. Sören rolled onto his stomach and thrust his ass out at Anthony. As he felt lube pour down his ass crack, he asked, "Stupid question, but will this position bother you?"  
  
"I still have difficulty kneeling, if that's what you're asking, but I'm fine if I'm laying on top of you." With that, Anthony climbed atop Sören, and Sören shivered at the feel of Anthony's chest hair against his back. He shivered again as Anthony put an arm around him and leaned in, loving the feel of Anthony's breath on his neck. "This way I can kiss your neck. I remember how sensitive you are there." Anthony began to kiss the back of Sören's neck, to demonstrate.  
  
Sören whimpered and wiggled his ass, rubbing against the sheets. "Dammit, fuck me..."  
  
Anthony laughed softly, delighted. He adjusted his position slightly and began to push in. When he was all the way inside, he took Sören's hand and his other hand tilted Sören's face, so they could kiss.  
  
Anthony went slowly at first, kissing him again and again, their tongues licking together between kisses, teasing them both. Then Anthony began kissing his neck again, his nape, his shoulder, and Sören whimpered and howled, his sensitized flesh electrified. Anthony licked the ridge of Sören's ear and whispered, "I'm yours... but you're mine, too." He kissed down Sören's neck again and growled, " _You're mine_ ," before he bit. Sören cried out, and again as Anthony began to pound into him, harder, faster, no mercy.  
  
Anthony continued to nibble and lick Sören's neck, growling as he took Sören's ass like he owned it; Sören loved being taken like this, that feeling of being claimed by one of the two great loves of his life. Sören worked his hips back at Anthony, matching his fast, furious rhythm, their hips slapping together. Sören panted, whimpered, squeezing Anthony's hand. "Fuck, that's so good," Sören sobbed. "That's so fucking good..."  
  
"God, you feel incredible." Anthony shivered. He turned Sören's face to his again. "So worth the wait."  
  
They kissed deeply, and their tongues played together again. Already, Sören was on that edge, wanting to come, but he held on, needing to lose himself in the primal, animal claiming. Sören's moans got louder, his whimpers higher in pitch, and he thrilled to the sound of Anthony panting, gasping, his broken cries, losing control. At last they were both _there_ again and Anthony grabbed Sören's hair, biting his neck, his nape, his shoulder.  
  
"Mine," Anthony growled. "You're mine. _You're mine_..."  
  
"Oh god, yes. More..." Sören's fists grabbed the pillows, white-knuckled, ready to explode. "More, _more_ , brother, more, I need it so bad..."  
  
They kissed again and Sören climaxed, screaming into the kiss as his body quivered with pleasure, toes curling involuntarily. Two thrusts later Anthony's teeth were on Sören's neck again and he let out a deep, fierce growl as he shook and Sören felt the hot seed flooding him. Sören cried out, and Anthony cried out too, spilling again.  
  
" _Fuck._ " Another bolt of pleasure went through Sören, taking his breath away.  
  
They kissed, and kissed. Anthony slipped out of Sören and Sören rolled so they could face each other, hold each other, look into each other's eyes and kiss some more. The kisses got them going again, and Sören gently rolled Anthony onto his back.  
  
"I want to ride you," Sören husked.  
  
"Yes. Please."  
  
Sören poured another coat of lube onto Anthony's hard cock, straddled Anthony's hips, and sank down. They took each other's hands as Anthony bottomed out inside him, then Sören's hands played over Anthony's chest as he began to ride. Sören moaned - Anthony's cock hit him just the right way in this position, and Anthony knew that.  
  
"That's it." Anthony's fingers walked over Sören's body, heat in his eyes. "I love watching you ride me."  
  
"You feel _so fucking good._ " Sören growled through his teeth, bucking harder.  
  
Soon Sören was riding him hard, and Anthony grabbed Sören's hips, a fierce look on his face that matched Sören's own hunger and need. Sören's prostate was sensitive from the previous fuck and the rubbing inside him was almost unbearably delicious, making him moan and growl and whimper, craving Anthony's cock like a drug. It got even better when Anthony slapped his ass.  
  
"My big brother's so naughty," Anthony whispered. "So depraved."  
  
"So _deprived._ " Sören gave another whimper as he reached in to pinch Anthony's nipples, then rub them. "I've missed this so much..."  
  
"I've missed you." Their eyes met. "Not just the sex. But you. All of you." Anthony's hand slid up from Sören's hip to rest on his heart.  
  
"You've got me." Sören kissed Anthony's hand and rode harder, bucking madly, racing them both to the finish.  
  
They came together, screaming, and Sören collapsed into Anthony's arms, the two of them shaking, gasping together. They kissed deeply and, with their foreheads close, breathed each other's breath, breathed each other in.  
  
"I love you," Anthony said, raining kisses over Sören's face. "I love you... love you... love you..."  
  
"I love you so much." Sören kissed the tip of his nose.  
  
Even after all of that they were still hungry, the old insatiability for each other roaring back. Sören lay on his back, and Anthony returned the favor of body worship, kissing and licking Sören all over, fingers brushing and rubbing in the wake of his tongue. He spent a long time just exploring, teasing, until Sören was writhing, screaming through clenched teeth, begging to be fucked. Anthony relented and slipped a pillow under Sören's hips, and Sören hooked a leg around Anthony's waist.  
  
Anthony fucked him slowly, stroking Sören's cheek, his hair, looking at him with such love in his eyes that it made Sören tear up. He reached up to touch Anthony's face, and Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, looking almost like he was in pain - when he opened his eyes they were too bright. Anthony leaned in and kissed Sören's forehead, slid his lips down to kiss the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
"I still can't believe we're doing this." Anthony laughed softly, his face lighting up in that grin Sören loved.  
  
"We are." Sören kissed him again. "We are so back together."  
  
They kissed, and Anthony pet Sören's curls, silent tears flowing as he smiled. "You feel so good. So incredibly _right_."  
  
"So do you," Sören said honestly, giving a little moan as Anthony's cock hit that sweet spot again.  
  
"This isn't just sex to me. I'm touching you. I'm feeling you. I'm inside you, we're connected... I'm expressing the way I feel, with each stroke. Wanting to love your heart, your soul, not just your body."  
  
Sören cried a little too, deeply moved. The rush of emotion made him even hornier; he kissed Anthony hard, fierce. "This is making love... but I still want you to fucking fuck me."  
  
Anthony grinned and kissed Sören back, and sped up inside him. He fucked hard until they were right there again, about to come, and then he slowed down, teasing them both. Sören made a growling whine of frustrated need, nails digging in Anthony's back. Anthony chuckled and started kissing and licking Sören's neck. "I want to savor this," Anthony husked. "I want to savor you."  
  
They kissed and kissed, building back up, slowly, the tension stronger and stronger until they were both shaking, gasping, and Anthony couldn't help but slam into him again, Sören rocking his hips back for all he was worth. Kissing deeply, they came together again, laughing, crying, one long, perfect note of molten joy.  
  
They snuggled together. Just before Sören could doze off again, Miss Balls joined them on the bed, sniffing the sheets curiously.  
  
"Oh boy," Sören said. "She smells sex."  
  
"Oh no. We've corrupted my sweet, innocent cat."  
  
Miss Balls came closer for pettings, but now she was sniffing Sören too. When she sniffed lower, Sören cracked up laughing. "Balls, meet balls."  
  
Anthony facepalmed. "Sören..."  
  
"Listen, your cats play with the gay love child of a pineapple and a wig, this isn't worse."  
  
Anthony howled into the pillows.  
  
Miss Balls settled on a pillow next to them, curled up in a ball, purring loudly. After some pets Anthony squinted at the clock again and frowned. "What time you go in tomorrow?"  
  
"Nine AM," Sören said. "I get back at seven PM."  
  
"OK, so I go to work before you do, otherwise I'd offer you a ride."  
  
"I... already got one, thanks."  
  
Anthony caught it and snickered. He sat up and stretched. "I should probably shower now so I can sleep in a bit tomorrow. Do you want to join me?"  
  
Of course, the shower got them going yet again, even though Sören didn't think he had it in him. He knew Anthony was a little nervous about the shower chair, but Sören showed him it had erotic potential, with Anthony's head level with Sören's cock. After Sören scrubbed his cock Anthony tongue-bathed it, and when Sören turned around to wash his hair Anthony pulled Sören closer and dipped his tongue into Sören's freshly clean passage, licking him so good Sören had to hold onto the guard rails in the shower to not fall over.  
  
When they got out of the shower they had one last round, a slow, languid sixty-nine, sucking and rimming until they came in each other's mouths. After they swallowed they kissed, savoring the lingering taste of their pleasure, the taste of them together, and finally they slept. It didn't take long for Sören to fall asleep, spent and cozy, and when he woke up in the middle of the night he remembered where he was and snuggled closer to Anthony, smiling before he drifted off again.  
  
Sören woke up to Anthony petting him. It was ten minutes before Anthony's alarm was set to go off. Sören gave him a little kiss and then he giggled at the feel of Anthony's hard cock pressed up against him.  
  
"And you say I'm insatiable," Sören said, before kissing him harder.  
  
"I never said that was a bad thing." Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "I'm only insatiable when I'm with you."  
  
Sören was touched by that - and satisfied. He tousled Anthony's hair. "Well, what do you suppose we do with these?" Sören was hard again too.  
  
"I imagine you must be a little sore from last night."  
  
Sören nodded. "A little. No regrets, though, would do again." He grinned.  
  
"You could fuck me, or we could do something else."  
  
Sören had an idea, something else they hadn't done in a long, long time. After a few minutes of stroking their cocks together in his fist, he let go and made their cocks kiss, cock head rubbing cock head. He pushed the small bead of his Prince Albert piercing into the slit of Anthony's cock, then rolled down his foreskin to swallow both their heads. Anthony cried out, and again as Sören reached down to massage their cock heads, enjoying the feel of Anthony inside him this way, teasing his sensitive foreskin, knowing from past experience how good it felt to Anthony, too. It didn't take them long to come together, and the feeling of searing hot cum exploding like a geyser between them made Sören's orgasm even more intense, gasping for breath as the pleasure shook him.  
  
Sören was very reluctant for Anthony to go, and to head back to his own flat to get ready for his shift. But they couldn't call out. It was just as well - Sören thought he might die if he didn't get a break from all the mind-blowing orgasms.  
  
Anthony did ride up with Sören in the lift to see him off, and they lingered outside the door of Sören and Nicholas's flat, hugging, kissing.  
  
"I love you," Anthony said. "Thank you for this, so much."  
  
"Thank _you._ " Sören kissed the tip of his nose. He patted Anthony's shoulder. "Try to have a good day."  
  
"It's already a good day." Anthony beamed, still smiling as he walked off, waving with his free hand. "It's a beautiful day. A beautiful world."


	39. La Mer

On July third, a week after Sören and Anthony had officially been back together, Anthony lingered after Sunday dinner, both to fuss over Tobias and get in as much time with Sören as he could - now that there wasn't the ache of pining, waiting. Nicholas didn't seem to mind, and indeed, was a fine host, asking Anthony if he wanted more tea and setting about making a pot when the answer was yes.  
  
When the tea was ready Nicholas brought it over, and there was a long silence as they drank their tea, with Nicholas giving him a studied look that suggested this wasn't just after-dinner socialization but there was about to be some sort of talk. Anthony didn't think that Sören would have gone ahead and initiated getting back together without having had some sort of discussion first, but nonetheless he braced himself, not knowing what to expect.  
  
Finally Nicholas put down his teacup and folded his hands on his lap. "Anthony," he said, his tone warm, cordial, without being forced. "I don't know if Sören told you this or not, but he received his schedule on Wednesday, which is for the next fortnight, and his request to take off the weekend of the sixteenth and seventeenth was approved."  
  
"Oh! I didn't even know he'd requested the time off. He told me he was going to be working a lot between now and August because he's going to Iceland then -"  
  
"Yes, but typically when he works more hours, he will get two days off in a row to compensate for the extra time."  
  
"It's not the hundred hour nightmare shifts if you're worried about that," Sören said.  
  
Anthony was a little worried about that, as it contributed to why things fell apart in 2013, without being the only cause. He nodded, breathing a small sigh of relief.  
  
"So... do you guys want me to watch Tobias while you go away for the weekend?" Anthony asked.  
  
"Well," Nicholas said, "actually I was going to tell you that because, as you know, you and Sören have recently gotten back together, as a show of good will to my partner's partner I would like to grant you that weekend with him, if you don't have other plans, and I'd be happy to look after your cats so Geir isn't obligated to stay home with them."  
  
Anthony's mouth opened, not able to believe what he was hearing. He knew Nicholas could be kind and generous, but this was _very_ good of him... almost too good. "I'd love to," Anthony said, looking at Sören, "if that's all right with you."  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"Did you ask him, if..." Anthony looked at Sören, then at Nicholas.  
  
"He suggested it, just like he was the one to suggest you stay with us for awhile," Sören said.  
  
Anthony blinked slowly. "Wow. Thank you?"  
  
Nicholas nodded, with a small smile. "I think it's fair that after so long, you take some time to catch up. Which leads me to make a second offer. Instead of accompanying Sören to Iceland in August, it would be fine with me if you go in my stead, and I'll, once again, look after your cats while you're away."  
  
"Jesus." Anthony was almost a little frightened by that. "You... you're sure. That's... that's a big -"  
  
"Again, as your relationship is in a process of renewal, I thought it would be good to give you both a little breathing room. I know where I stand with Sören, and I'm confident that won't change. And later in the year should he have more weekends free, I should like to go away with him and I would ask you to return the favor and look after Tobias for me."  
  
"Of course." Anthony loved Tobias and that was no trouble at all.  
  
"As far as Iceland goes, as keen as I am on seeing such a beautiful country, I told Sören that I'm more interested in seeing it during the winter time than in the summer. Which isn't to say that I would be opposed to seeing the midnight sun next summer. But I am particularly interested in seeing the northern lights, and you can't see those in August. I told Sören that perhaps for his birthday in November, or our two-year anniversary in February, we should go then. Realistically it will probably be for our anniversary."  
  
Anthony nodded. What he didn't want to say was that they were supposed to have gotten married in November 2013 just before Sören's birthday, so the honeymoon would serve as a vacation for Sören's birthday as well. He found the thought of being without Sören for a week stung less if it was in mid to late February, rather than the time when they should have been married.  
  
"I'm glad you guys can share like adults," Sören said. "That makes me feel optimistic."  
  
"I've come to think of you as a friend," Nicholas said, meeting Anthony's eyes, "and now that you are the partner of my partner that rather makes you family as well. Like a sort of brother."  
  
That went straight to Anthony's cock. He didn't want to be any more attracted to Nicholas Decaux than he already was, and Nicholas unwittingly hitting his secret kink... Anthony shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping he wouldn't get so hard it would be noticeable. It didn't help that he could see a little of Nicholas's grey chest hair at the top of his shirt, and now his mind was replaying memories of his time with Mikael in Sweden, but replacing Mikael with Nicholas. Then his fantasy turned into a threesome with Nicholas and Sören...  
  
 _Stop it right now._  
  
"So," Nicholas continued, "I feel it is in everyone's best interests for us to come to amicable arrangements with sharing."  
  
 _You could share me too, if you wanted to._ "Thank you for that," Anthony said, his mouth dry, his face on fire. "It's nice that we're... friends." He swallowed hard and looked down, just in time for Tobias to trot over with one of Sören's socks, black with rainbow owls, meowing with it in his mouth.  
  
"Oh, he steals my socks out of the laundry basket," Sören said.  
  
Tobias dropped the sock down at Anthony's feet. "Prrrp?"  
  
Anthony pet him, chuckling, grateful for the distraction. "What a good boy, bringing me a present." He tossed the sock. "Fetch."  
  
Tobias chased after the sock, and then he dragged it into the kitchen and started "killing" it.  
  
"We're a nice, normal family," Sören said, grinning. "There's one of our problematic murderchildren right there."  
  
"Indeed," Nicholas said, chuckling into his tea.  
  
 _If only._ In Anthony's heart of hearts he wanted to move back in, wanted his cats to be their cats and vice versa, wanted to share their bed, their life. But he couldn't.  
  
This would have to do, but it was enough. It was better than Anthony could have hoped for, and he remained grateful for that.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When it was time for Anthony to return to the flat he shared with Geir, Sören walked him over - it seemed that Sören, too, wanted to drink in every possible second, something Anthony reveled in.  
  
Anthony invited him in, though he knew Sören couldn't stay long - just because Nicholas had been generous with the impending weekend and the trip to Iceland, didn't mean they could take advantage of that and make an impromptu overnight. Nonetheless, after Sören fussed over Seumas and Miss Balls for a few minutes, he hugged Anthony and gave him a kiss, and one kiss became another, and another, until they were making out on the couch, necking, petting, panting.  
  
Geir cleared his throat. Anthony looked over his shoulder, face burning. "Oh. Hi, Geir."  
  
"Don't stop on my account." Geir grinned. "It's sexy as hell."  
  
Anthony's face burned even hotter. Sören grinned back, then leered at Anthony before pulling him into another deep, hungry kiss, hands sliding over Anthony's chest. Anthony moaned, and grabbed a handful of Sören's curls, kissing him back, wanting Sören to feel his passion - wanting Geir to see it.  
  
When they pulled apart, Geir fanned himself, and let out a low whistle. "You two are definitely making up for lost time."  
  
Sören nodded. "I have a weekend off on the sixteenth and seventeenth and Nick said I could spend it with Anthony."  
  
"That's very nice of him," Geir said, "but then, Dad has always been that way."  
  
"Well..." Sören wiggled his eyebrows. "You might get quite a show that weekend, just saying."  
  
Even though he and Geir sometimes slept together, and Anthony knew Sören and Geir had been lovers for a year and a half, he still didn't want to impose on Geir, knowing Sören was a bit of a screamer. Anthony thought for a moment and then he said, "How would you feel about going to Brighton again, like old times?"  
  
"Oh, Anthony." Sören's eyes were soft, melting chocolate. "I'd like that a lot." He touched Anthony's face. "I'd love that." Then Sören turned to Geir. "Do you want to come with us?" Sören turned back to Anthony, realizing he'd invited Geir without asking Anthony first. "I mean, if it's OK..."  
  
And now Anthony had mental images of having a threesome with Sören and Geir. It wasn't quite as delicious as the fantasies of a threesome with Sören and Nicholas, but it was still plenty hot. "I... don't mind at all." Anthony bit his lower lip.  
  
"Brighton sounds lovely," Geir said, nodding. "And lovelier with the two of you naked."  
  
"Well then." Sören rubbed his hands together. "That's settled. And on that note... I really don't want to be gone too long. Need to take care of Nick." Sören giggled. "He was too much of a gentleman to say this, but one of the reasons why he's being so nice about letting me go off on trips with you is because when I get back..." Sören licked his lips. "He gets really, really dominant."  
  
Anthony would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that. Then he had the fantasy of having a domination contest with Nicholas, rubbing their cocks together, whoever came last got to fuck Sören first...  
  
A shiver went down his spine, and the eerie feeling of déjà vu, like they'd done that before. Of course they hadn't. _Not in this life._ He thought of the dreams of "before", the dreams where he had blond hair, and two brothers. The dreams he shared with Sören. But those were just dreams...  
  
Now Anthony and Geir were walking Sören to the door. Sören kissed each of them in turn, then watched as Anthony and Geir kissed each other, then the three of them kissed, tongues playing together, and Anthony's cock jolted in his khaki shorts.  
  
When Sören left, Anthony found himself dragging Geir towards his bedroom. Geir laughed, seemingly pleased by this. "My, aren't we randy," Geir teased.  
  
Anthony just gave a growl in response, and started to undress himself.  
  
Once they were naked, they got on the bed together and spent a moment kissing, stroking each other's cocks. When they pulled apart, Geir gave him a mischievous little smile before ducking down, his head in Anthony's lap, sucking his cock. Anthony grabbed Geir's hair and groaned, losing himself in the pleasure of Geir's mouth.  
  
A few minutes later Geir pulled the cock out of his mouth to lick it, tongue rubbing at the head, then giving the head a few taps against his tongue before sucking on just the head, eyes looking up at Anthony. Anthony moaned and shivered, cock throbbing, balls tightening, feeling the tension climb to that edge.  
  
Then Geir took Anthony's cock out of his mouth again, took a few more licks to lap up the flowing precum, and came up to kiss Anthony, a hand playing over him. "Want to sixty-nine?" Geir asked.  
  
"It's my favorite number." Anthony grinned.  
  
They got into position, laying on their sides, hands sliding over each other's backs, fingers walking as they sucked. Anthony got into it, sucking hungrily as Geir sucked harder, faster than before. As Anthony felt himself getting there again, Geir took the cock out of his mouth and rasped, "You ever had a threesome before?"  
  
"Mm-mm." Anthony shook his head with his mouth full. He'd done some wild things during his time in Europe in his early twenties - he'd dominated someone at a BDSM club, he'd been in a few orgies - but he'd never had a threesome.  
  
Geir took a few teasing licks at Anthony's cock, chuckling. "You're in for a treat, then." His tongue traveled in slow, lazy circles around the head of Anthony's cock. "Picture all three of us sucking each other... you sucking Sören while he sucks me and I suck you... or you sucking me while Sören sucks you and I suck him..."  
  
Anthony pulled the cock out of his mouth and let a shuddery gasp. "Oh god." He loved that mental image.  
  
"Mmmmmm." Geir sucked on the head for a moment, then started licking at it again. "Me fucking you while you fuck Sören..."  
  
"Oh _god_..." Anthony felt ready to come just from that mental image alone.  
  
"Me fucking Sören while he sucks you, spit roasting him..."  
  
Anthony couldn't take it, and Geir knew it, sucking him more eagerly than before. It didn't take much longer for Anthony to finish, crying out around the cock in his mouth as he spilled into Geir's mouth. A minute later Geir came too, and Anthony shot again at the sound of Geir's gasps and moans, the taste of him.  
  
They curled up together. "We're going to have so much fun." Geir grinned.  
  
That weekend couldn't get here fast enough.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Finally it was here. Anthony, Geir and Sören took the train to Brighton, and from there, a cab to the beach house Anthony's parents owned. It had been a long time since Anthony had been there - not since the breakup with Sören, it had felt too haunted, considering how many memories they'd made in that house - but now it welcomed him like a long-lost family member coming home, and there was a giddy rush of joy as he walked in, cane in one hand, wheeling his suitcase with another. It wasn't simply that he was excited about his very first threesome, but it really did feel like he was beginning a new chapter of his life...  
  
...beginning some sort of adventure.  
  
He never thought he'd get to this place, after the accident, where he was _living_ again, not merely surviving, but once again grabbing life by the horns and riding it for all it was worth. Of course, it helped that probably very soon, Sören would be riding him for all he was worth. But Anthony's life felt full now. His career was back on track. He had real friends. He loved Sören even more than before they had broken up, valuing him all the more for having lost and found him again. As painful as it had been to wait almost a year to officially get back together, Anthony found himself very grateful that Sören had insisted on his terms - not being the only thing in Anthony's life. With a fuller life, his love for Sören felt fuller as well. _He really is a healer._  
  
The day reflected his mood - a bright blue sky, sunlight sparkling on the ocean like a million diamonds. Anthony paused a moment by the window looking out at the sea, the waves rolling endlessly, like life continuing to go on. Sören put a hand on Anthony's shoulder as if he knew exactly what Anthony was thinking and feeling, and when Anthony turned his head to smile at Sören, his smile got bigger to reflect the grin on Sören's face... Sören's joy.  
  
"I love you," Sören said simply.  
  
Anthony kissed him hard, overcome by emotion. Sören kissed him back, and Geir walked towards them as they kissed more feverishly. Geir joined in, kissing both of them in turn, an arm around each of them as he watched them kiss each other again. They walked to the master bedroom, and after putting their baggage in the corner, Sören immediately began to undress, which made Geir laugh at his enthusiasm. Anthony and Geir undressed too.  
  
Then Geir was walking them towards the king-sized bed, and when they got on the bed Geir was in the middle, each arm around their shoulders, smiling, his cock already standing at full attention. "What do you want to do first?"  
  
"Yes?" Sören giggled, and Anthony laughed too.  
  
"I really," Geir husked, "want to watch the two of you make out with each other, and suck each other. But before you come in each other's mouths, I want to get in on it too. The three of us..."  
  
"The three of us sucking each other?" Sören's eyes lit up.  
  
Geir nodded.  
  
Sören and Anthony looked at each other - Anthony liked that idea and Sören did too. There were a lot of ideas Anthony liked, but he could start with that.  
  
A few kisses later, Sören ran his fingers through Anthony's chest hair and started playing with his nipples, making Anthony groan, trembling at Sören's touch. Sören kissed Anthony's neck, and then he purred, "This is baby's first threesome?"  
  
"Yeah," Anthony said, feeling like a shy virgin all over again. "I know it's not yours, I know about you and Geir and Karen..." Immediately he regretted saying that, watching Sören wince a little at the mention of Karen's name. He knew Karen was still a sore spot for Sören. Anthony's arms tightened around him protectively.  
  
But Sören took it in stride, getting right back into kissing Anthony's neck, thumbs rubbing Anthony's nipples, pinching them, before he kissed his way down to Anthony's chest and began lapping them, suckling them. "This is hotter," Sören finally said, pausing before he licked a nipple more slowly. "I may be bi, but I strongly, _strongly_ prefer men. Especially now." Their eyes met - just long enough for Anthony to see the pain - and then Sören was all passion and fire again, nibbling on a nipple before sucking it harder, making Anthony cry out, grabbing Sören's curls.  
  
"And it's hotter that this is your first threesome," Sören said, before suckling the other nipple, taking a few more licks then kissing back up Anthony's chest and neck, to claim his mouth again, deep and hungry. Sören grinned. "I love corrupting you."  
  
Anthony laughed softly and touched Sören's face. "You're my favorite bad influence."  
  
He playfully sucked on Sören's lower lip - he loved the sound of Sören moaning, his cock throbbing in response - and they kissed and kissed, tongues teasing. Just from those kisses alone, Anthony was worked up, their mouths moving the way they wanted to move inside each other. Soon Anthony was reaching between them, stroking both their cocks in his fist as they continued kissing, tongues playing together between kisses, taking a moment to breathe each other's breath before kissing again, fiercely, claiming.  
  
They were both dripping precum now, and Anthony paused stroking them to collect a pool with his fingers. He stuck his index and middle fingers in Sören's mouth and Sören sucked his fingers; the sight of Sören's full lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking slowly like it was a cock, and the heat in Sören's eyes made Anthony's cock jolt, dripping more precum. Sören moaned with his mouth full before he licked Anthony's fingers clean with long, slow deliberate strokes of his tongue, savoring, eyes locked with his. "I think," Sören rasped, "I need more."  
  
They got into position then, laying at each other's sides, sucking slowly and languidly at first, then harder, faster, as Geir watched, stroking his cock, groaning with appreciation. "The two of you are so _fucking_ hot together," Geir growled.  
  
Anthony stopped sucking Sören's cock for a moment, not able to resist. "Hotter than the paintings?"  
  
Sören giggled with his mouth full. He took Anthony's cock out of his mouth and teased back, "Those paintings were still fucking hot, OK?" He tapped the head of Anthony's cock against his tongue, took a few swirling licks, before sucking on the head, rubbing his tongue as he sucked. Anthony groaned as he drew Sören's cock back into his mouth.  
  
"The paintings were definitely gorgeous. But I love watching the real thing." Geir gave a shuddery little sigh. "I love how into each other you both are."  
  
Now it was Sören's turn to stop sucking and make a joke. "Jæja, we'll be _into_ each other, all right."  
  
Anthony swatted Sören's ass.  
  
A few minutes later Geir joined in. Anthony replaced Sören's cock in his mouth with Geir's, and watched Geir swallow down Sören's cock; Sören resumed sucking Anthony's cock, kissing it, tongue more insistent than before. It felt utterly debauched, and it didn't take long for them to lose control, fucking each other's mouths, moaning, close to the finish. Geir came first, and tasting him set off Anthony's own orgasm; Sören cried out with his mouth full and Anthony felt him shiver, knowing Sören was coming too.  
  
After they swallowed they took turns kissing again, enjoying the lingering taste. The kisses got them going again, and Sören gave Geir a pointed look. "We should show Anthony how good it is to be spoilt by two people at once," Sören said. Geir nodded approval.  
  
Anthony lay back and Sören and Geir kissed and licked him all over, hands roaming, caressing. It was always amazing when Sören made love to him, exploring and worshiping his body, and having two mouths, two tongues, two sets of hands on him at once was indescribably delicious. Anthony heard himself moan louder and louder, grabbing at their hair as he writhed, panted, utterly lost in pleasure and want.  
  
Then Sören and Anthony gave Geir that same treatment, and Anthony learned how much fun it was to share - how sexy Sören looked kissing and licking and touching another male body, hunger in his eyes. Every now and again Sören and Anthony paused their work to kiss each other, making Geir groan. Anthony loved it when Sören took Geir's cock in his mouth, sucking slowly, and Anthony lapped and sucked at the balls, watching Sören with his mouth full of cock, watching Geir's reactions. He loved it just as much when he and Sören traded places and he sucked Geir as Sören kissed Geir's balls before licking the sensitive place between balls and ass; Anthony moaned as he watched Sören dip his tongue into Geir, rimming hungrily. Geir clutched at the headboard, crying out.  
  
Before Geir could come like that they stopped. Anthony and Sören just licked Geir's cock for a few minutes, chasing the precum with their tongues, kissing and rubbing their tongues together, sharing the taste of him. Geir finally grabbed Sören by the hair and pulled him up into a rough, needy kiss before he growled, "Your turn, luv."  
  
Now that he knew from firsthand experience how it felt to have two people teasing him, Anthony enjoyed sharing Sören's body with Geir even more than he thought he would. Anthony and Geir spent a long time pleasuring Sören's nipples, and Anthony thought Sören made the best noises getting both of his nipples sucked at the same time, his balls tightening, ready to explode.  
  
They teased Sören so much that Sören began to beg. "Please... oh god, please... fuck me... I need cock so fucking bad..."  
  
Anthony growled before he took a little nibble at Sören's stomach. "You do, do you?"  
  
For that first fuck they decided Anthony would fuck Sören, as Geir fucked Anthony. They lay on their sides, and Anthony looked into Sören's eyes as he slid into him. Sören touched Anthony's face and there was such love in those warm brown eyes that it took Anthony's breath away. He kissed Sören deeply once he was all the way in. Then Geir's arms were around him and Geir kissed the back of Anthony's neck as he pushed in.  
  
Feeling Geir's cock stroke inside him, hitting that sweet spot, as his own cock was gripped by Sören's passage, was one of the most amazing things Anthony had ever felt. He enjoyed it even more as Geir whispered, "That's it. Fuck him like I'm fucking you," and he thrusted harder into Sören, who threw his head back and cried out, nails digging into Anthony's hips. The three of them moved together beautifully and it didn't take long for them to all get to that edge, trembling, panting, desperate to come but not wanting to stop. When Sören climaxed, shooting over Anthony's chest with a little whimper, Anthony came too, and three thrusts later Geir came, kissing Anthony's shoulder as he groaned. Anthony gasped for breath, and then he and Sören were kissing again, moaning together.  
  
They pulled apart and reassembled in a cuddle pile. Anthony lay his head on Sören's chest, soothed by Sören stroking his hair and Geir rubbing his back. "How was that?" Sören asked, touching Anthony's cheek.  
  
"Amazing," Anthony said and meant it, smiling. That had been even better than his fantasies about what it would be like to have Sören and Geir together.  
  
Then he felt a pang of wistfulness - it would be even better still if it had been Nicholas and Sören. He _liked_ Geir, he was attracted to him, but there wasn't the same feeling of _home_ that there was with Sören and Nicholas together.  
  
Sören leaned in a little and kissed Anthony's brow, then went back to petting him. "I love you, you know," Sören said, and booped Anthony's nose.  
  
"I love you too." Anthony took Sören's free hand, and squeezed.  
  
They lay there like that for awhile, and then Anthony slid up to rub noses with Sören and rain little kisses over his face. "You guys are so cute," Geir said, grinning at them.  
  
But things soon heated as Anthony and Sören's lips met and parted, tongues playing together. They kissed again and again, and Anthony began to kiss and lick Sören's neck, their cocks already hard again and rubbing together. Geir groaned, stroking himself as he watched.  
  
Then Sören grabbed Geir and pulled him closer so they could kiss, and then Anthony and Geir were kissing. " _Fuck_ ," Sören said, and gave a little moan. When Sören and Anthony were kissing again, Sören's hand strayed to their hard cocks, stroking them both together slowly, and after a few kisses down Anthony's neck, Sören husked, "I want to eat his cum out of you."  
  
That was incredibly kinky, and sent a thrill through Anthony, laying back and parting his thighs. Sören dove down, lapping Geir's cum out of his passage. Then Geir climbed off the bed and knelt on the floor by the edge of the bed, grabbed Sören's hips and buried his face in Sören's ass, eating Anthony's cum out of him. Anthony cried out, tugging on Sören's curls, stroking himself as Sören got into it, tongue lashing away, moaning "mmmmmm" into him.  
  
By the time Sören had his fill, Anthony's cock was dripping precum again. He collected it on his fingers and watched as Sören once again sucked his fingers, licked them clean. Then Sören straddled Anthony's hips. "I want you inside me," Sören said. He looked over his shoulder at Geir. "Both of you."  
  
They applied more lube, and then Sören sank down on Anthony's cock. Looking at Sören's body, the lust in those brown eyes, watching his cock push into Sören's channel, almost undid him right then. Sören began to ride, slowly, and Anthony growled, hands on Sören's hips, enjoying the show. After a couple of moments Sören glanced over at Geir again, with a teasing little smile. Geir got in position behind Sören, and Anthony felt Geir's cock bump up against his as he started to move in. Sören felt even tighter now, and he looked a little uncomfortable, but before Anthony could ask Sören if he was OK, Sören gasped, a look of ecstasy on his face. "Oh, god." Sören reached down and started playing with his cock. " _Fuck_ , that's fucking hot."  
  
The feel of Sören's tight velvet heat wrapped around both of them, Geir's cock rubbing his as one pushed and the other pulled, was delicious, even moreso as Anthony thought about what it must look like, two cocks rubbing together in and out of Sören's passage. They went slowly, savoring, but soon enough Sören got more vocal and was riding harder, panting, begging "more, oh god, more..."  
  
Watching Geir's hands slide over Sören, watching Geir kiss, nibble, and lick Sören's neck, was also a turn-on. It drove Anthony even crazier to think about what it would look like with Nicholas where Geir was right now, Nicholas caressing Sören, teasing his neck. Thinking about Nicholas's cock rubbing against his inside Sören...  
  
Sören was feverish, bucking madly, gasping, begging "more, more" until he couldn't make words at all, just whimper. Geir slapped Sören's ass and then Anthony did. Anthony reached to stroke Sören's cock, his free hand playing over Sören's body, lingering at the nipples. Sören threw his head back and let out a strangled sob, and a moment later Sören came, making a mess all over Anthony's body. Anthony and Geir came together, and the feeling of cock shooting onto cock made Anthony's orgasm even more intense.  
  
They all needed a nap after that, Anthony sandwiched between them, deeply relaxed after the powerful orgasms. It was a long nap too - four hours later Anthony woke up and Sören was still asleep. Anthony's stomach growled, and he woke up Sören, figuring Sören should probably eat too.  
  
Anthony heard Geir moving around in the living room, and he put his clothes back on and walked out there to start coffee for himself and Sören. Geir was on his laptop. "Craig says hi," Geir said, looking up.  
  
"Oh, you're answering e-mails?"  
  
Geir nodded. "I didn't get a whole lot, but Craig wanted to know how we were."  
  
"He's a good kid," Anthony said.  
  
"Are we talking about Craig?" Sören mumbled as he staggered out from the bedroom.  
  
"We are," Geir said. "He also says hello to you."  
  
Sören blew a kiss, and Geir typed, chuckling. Sören perked up a little at the sight of Anthony making coffee. "Oh, _takk._ " He yawned and stretched, which got Anthony yawning too. "God, we slept longer than I thought we would."  
  
"I was actually going to wake you guys up in about ten minutes or so and see what you wanted to do for dinner," Geir said.  
  
Sören shrugged. "You have any ideas?"  
  
"I'm flexible."  
  
Sören snorted. "I bet."  
  
Anthony grinned, his mind going right into the gutter even though he was spent... for now. Geir eyerolled and laughed, shaking his head. "Never change, Sören," Geir said. "But no, seriously. Whatever you guys want."  
  
Sören looked at Anthony.  
  
"Well, I'm not up for walking around Brighton the way I used to," Anthony said, gesturing to his cane, "so even an ostensibly short walk from here would still be more than what I'm capable of with distance. Getting a cab is possible but rather a pain."  
  
"I could go get us takeaway from somewhere nearby and bring it back," Geir offered.  
  
"Oh, that would be good," Sören said, and Anthony nodded.  
  
Geir left soon afterwards to go pick up food. While Anthony found it beyond his capabilities to manage a fifteen-to-twenty-minute walk into town one-way, they were very close to the beach, and a short walk along the shore was something Anthony felt confident of. So as Geir was out, Sören accompanied Anthony for a walk on the beach. Anthony noticed Sören was moving gingerly after having been well-used a few hours ago.  
  
"Sore?" Anthony asked.  
  
"A little," Sören said. "No regrets, though. I totally want to do that again sometime."  
  
"I'd like to do that again too." _With you and Nicholas._  
  
Sören took Anthony's hand. "I'm glad we're here." Sören paused and looked out at the sea, shining in the old-gold light of late afternoon. "I'm glad _you're_ here."  
  
"Me too," Anthony said, finding it amazing that he could say that honestly.  
  
"God, Brighton is so pretty." Sören breathed in the salt air and smiled. His curls stirred in the gentle breeze. "Though I still find the rocky shore to be really weird. Where I come from, I'm used to sand."  
  
"See, I've never seen a sandy beach outside of photos."  
  
"You will." Sören nodded. "I think when we go to Iceland next month, I want to take you to Reynisfjara. Even after having been to Hawaii, which was spectacular, I still think Reynisfjara is the most beautiful beach in the world."  
  
"So I get to see the most beautiful beach in the world with the most beautiful man in the world."  
  
Sören turned to Anthony and raised an eyebrow. "We did the thing again, because I was going to say the exact same thing about you just now."  
  
Anthony's stomach fluttered, and his heart soared. He put an arm around Sören and kissed him. "I love you so damn much, Sören."  
  
"I love you too." Sören sighed and rested his head on Anthony's shoulder.  
  
Anthony's eyes stung with happy tears and he closed his eyes, not wanting to cry, just wanting to bask in the light of Sören's love... the light of hope. _Days like this, I can really believe everything is going to be all right, somehow._


	40. The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is, the final chapter of this particular fic.
> 
> The sequel is [_Love Is A Long Road_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785588/).

" _Góðan daginn, fallega ástin mín._ "  
  
Sören gave a sleepy smile as he stretched, and opened his eyes to see Anthony's green eyes shining. "You learned a little Icelandic," Sören said.  
  
" _Bara smá._ Not fluent yet. But I wanted to try to pick some up... to pick you up." Anthony gave him a cheeky grin. "Is it working yet?"  
  
Sören kissed the tip of his nose, giggling. "You already got me, Muppet." Anthony gave a mock offended glare at the pet name. "But it is touching that you want to learn my language, já." Sören kissed his mouth, sweet and lingering. "And kind of sexy." Those moments where Anthony was tender and considerate made him all the sexier to Sören.  
  
"Kind of?" Anthony pretended to sound irritated, but his lips quirked and his eyes were laughing.  
  
"Just a little." Sören tweaked his nose. " _Bara smá._ "  
  
They chuckled, and then Anthony began to rain kisses over Sören's face. "I was thinking of calling room service, ordering up breakfast. What would you like to eat?"  
  
Sören couldn't resist. "You."  
  
Anthony laughed, harder, and nibbled on Sören's lower lip. "You, _elskan_ , are insatiable."  
  
"As you know..."  
  
"As you know." Anthony kissed him, and as their tongues teased Sören's cock woke up. Anthony adjusted his position slightly and Sören's breath hitched as he felt Anthony's hard cock bump up against his.  
  
"Sounds like you'd like sausage for breakfast too." Sören smirked.  
  
Anthony laughed again, kissed the tip of Sören's nose, and claimed his mouth again, deep and passionate, making them both moan into the kiss.  
  
They started their day with a sensual, languid sixty-nine, sucking each other slowly, licking each other's cocks, rimming, then fingering each other as they resumed sucking, until they were fucking each other's fingers, sucking harder, moaning loud with their mouths full. Sören came first, and Anthony flooded his mouth a few seconds later. They swallowed it down and came up to kiss, still tasting each other, savoring the way they tasted together. The way they _felt_ together, their bond stronger than before.  
  
"OK, _now_ I'm calling for breakfast," Anthony said, leaning over to the phone on the bedtable.  
  
"Hi Calling For Breakfast -"  
  
Anthony glared, then he laughed, and Sören did too. "You want what we've been having? Skyr with oatmeal?" Though the hotel offered more variety including a full English breakfast, Anthony wanted to try something more traditional while visiting Iceland, and it delighted Sören that he'd developed a taste for skyr.  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
It didn't take long for breakfast to arrive, with a pot of coffee. They checked e-mail and the news as they ate together, and then it was off to the shower; the hotel had sent a shower chair to their room for disability accommodations. Anthony had mostly gotten over his self-consciousness about showering with Sören while sitting in the shower chair, as Sören had used it as an excuse to pamper him, massaging his scalp and neck and shoulders - and he'd also shown him the erotic potential, with Anthony's head being level with Sören's cock, and it being easier for Sören to sit on the floor of the shower to give oral favors himself, rather than kneel. Sören was still feeling a bit amorous after their sixty-nine, but before he could get too involved in seduction, Anthony said, "We can do that later. You promised we could see certain things today."  
  
"Jæja, I did." Sören nodded.  
  
Anthony gave him a mischievous look. "And it would be fun to tease you all day."  
  
It was Friday, August twelfth, their last full day in Iceland. They'd be flying back to London tomorrow afternoon. Sören had wanted to "save the best for last", two destinations that he knew would be particularly memorable. And as horny as Sören was for Anthony, they couldn't see them if they stayed in bed all day.  
  
However, even though Sören had planned on certain activities for their last day, he had no control over the weather. Anthony had known to expect it to not be higher than 10-15 C - they were both wearing long-sleeved T-shirts - but it was another thing for it to rain. Sören made a face as he looked out the window.  
  
"I still want to go to Reynisfjara," Anthony said. "Rain never stopped us from going to Brighton, after all."  
  
"OK, good." Sören still wanted to go to Reynisfjara as well - the beach on rainy and overcast days held its own beauty to Sören's artist's eye - but he knew not everyone thought like him. Yet, as different as he and Anthony were in many ways, they were also a lot alike... and this was one of the ways they were very much alike.  
  
But first... Sören took down his jeans, and the black lacy panties he was wearing under them, feeling naughty, and Anthony applied lube and pushed the remote-controlled plug into Sören. He turned on the vibe to its lowest setting and as it began to purr, Sören moaned. Anthony smiled. "Good." He turned off the vibe, though Sören knew it would only be a matter of time before it was pulsing away inside him again, and just the feel of the plug inside him even without it vibrating felt deliciously naughty.  
  
Before they went to Reynisfjara, Sören had something to show him in Reykjavik. They took the bus to the Icelandic Phallological Museum, which houses the world's largest display of penises and penile parts.  
  
Anthony tried to keep a straight face as they walked through the museum, but as they got halfway through the selections Anthony started shaking with silent laughter that quickly became less silent, and he leaned on Sören, doubling over. Sören laughed too.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Anthony said. "I can't believe we're doing this."  
  
"You act like you've never seen a penis before, Anthony, and I have it on good authority that you've seen quite a few of them."  
  
Anthony lost it even more at the samples of penises allegedly from _huldufólk_.  
  
"Yes, half the country believes in elves," Sören said, and of course his brain reminded him of those dreams of "before", being in another body... the dreams he shared with Anthony. The memory of Elaine telling him Anthony used to write stories about elves when he was a kid. A shiver went down Sören's spine - _OK, that's not real, that's just old wives' tales, it's bullshit_ \- but his own mamma had claimed to see one of the _huldufólk_ when she was a child. There were rumors that they had elf blood from centuries ago. Sören desperately needed a moment of levity, not wanting to speculate further on whether or not there might be some truth to the legends. _It's not like the Yule Cat is fucking real, either._ "These aren't real elf dicks, though. Or at least, I would think real elf dick would be bigger. In Norse mythology Freyr was the lord of the elves, and he was depicted in ancient statues and carvings with a giant dingdong, so I'm just saying, elves should have big dingdongs -"  
  
Anthony had to sit down, in hysterics. "Wow, Sören. Just... wow."  
  
On the way out they stopped at the gift shop. Sören bought a "willy warmer" for himself, one for Anthony, one for Nicholas, and, upon further thought, also for Geir, Craig, Ben, and Pierre. "To give them at Christmas, so the Yule Cat doesn't eat them," Sören said.  
  
"Very... thoughtful."  
  
"You can have yours now," Sören said. "We'll match." Sören had gotten striped snakes for both of them. Another shiver went down his spine, remembering dreams where he'd made other-Anthony a ring for their secret, forbidden marriage - two snakes, set with green jewels in the eyes.  
  
 _OK, stop that shit. There are no elves, there is no elf dingdong, cut it out._  
  
After the penis museum, there was a food cart nearby. Anthony still hadn't had a _pylsa_ so Sören remedied that, ordering two " _með öllu_ ". The hot dogs were made from mostly Icelandic lamb, with a bit of pork and beef, on steamed buns topped with raw white onions and crispy fried onions, ketchup, sweet brown mustard called _pylsusinnep_ , and remoulade. Anthony looked a little dubious but he tried it anyway. "I normally don't like hot dogs at all but this is good," he said.  
  
"Want another?"  
  
Anthony nodded.  
  
As they worked on their second _pylsa_ , Anthony paused eating and started laughing again. "Oh god, we're eating this after we..." He couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
"Oh no. That wasn't intentional."  
  
"Sure it wasn't."  
  
"No, seriously." Sören would have wanted one anyway, since the food cart was right there. "It's just good timing. Anyway, if you like this, I can make them now and again when you visit. It's been years since I had a proper _pylsa_ and it's one of the things I get nostalgic for."  
  
Anthony patted Sören's shoulder.  
  
From the penis museum, Sören called their driver to take them to and from Reynisfjara - for the week he'd hired a driving service that had a handicap-accessible jeep with a ramp to get in and out. It was approximately a two and a half hour drive along the southwest coast of Iceland, and very scenic. The hilarity of the penises - and eating hot dogs after the penises - faded as they were enthralled by the beauty of the ocean view and cliffs, starkly majestic, ethereal melancholy with the silver skies and dark, choppy sea. It seemed to Sören as if the sea was almost singing, a male tenor calling over the waves, echoes of words Sören did not understand but _felt_. A song of blood, a song of home.  
  
For the first time since he'd left, Sören wondered what it would be like to return to Iceland to live... to live there with Nicholas and Anthony, maybe Craig as well, and all their critters. He knew of course that wasn't possible, they all had careers, their roots ran pretty deep there. Nonetheless, he felt longing to return to Iceland someday...  
  
...and to nest with the men he loved. He knew that even as much as he did, in fact, miss his homeland, he could be home anywhere in the world so long as he was with the ones he loved. And he wished Nicholas and Craig could be here now, to see this. To _feel_ this. He had a feeling that somehow, they would get it, just like he got it, just like Anthony got it.  
  
In the back of the jeep, Anthony took Sören's hand and squeezed.  
  
There was a parking lot in front of a cafe, and it was a short walk to the black sand beach, though Sören went slowly for Anthony's sake. The rain had let up, but the skies were still overcast grey, and it was chillier by the ocean. "Don't go too close to the water," Sören said. "Even though it looks calm right now, big waves have come in and grabbed people."  
  
Because of the rain earlier that day, and the grey skies, the beach was currently empty except for them; their driver was in the cafe. Sören was glad for that, as he didn't want to be bothered by tourists, especially if they were American. But even more than that, as they walked across the black sand together, getting closer to the sea - but not too close - Sören felt a strange sense of anticipation, like they were _meant_ to be here. Like they were on sacred ground, sharing a holy mystery for their eyes only. That made no sense - that made even less sense to Sören than the belief of his countrymen in elves - but he couldn't shake the feeling.  
  
It had been many years since Sören had been to Reynisfjara - well before he left Iceland, since his schedule had been so hectic working at the hospital in Reykjavik that he hadn't had time to do things like this. So even though he'd been here before, it was still like seeing it again for the first time, and he took in everything with awe... the basalt columns, the sea stacks in the distance, the cave. The dramatic beauty of the black sand with the silvery sky and steel sea.  
  
"It's gorgeous," Anthony said, his tone hushed, reverent. "It's even more beautiful than I thought it would be."  
  
"Jæja." Sören nodded, breathing in the salt air, enjoying the feel of the breeze in his hair. "Places like this, they... make an imprint in your soul." Sören put a hand on his heart.  
  
Anthony turned Sören's face to his, love in his eyes. Passion. "Like you."  
  
They kissed deeply - soul-deep. Sören moaned into the kiss, cock stirring in his jeans. _Wanting._ Since they were the only two people on the beach, Sören had the urge to push him down into the sand and ride him right there, in this place of wild, primal beauty. But then there was a sudden, intensely bright light, like an eclipse in reverse. Too bright to be just the sun peeking through the clouds - it was like there was a klieg light shining on them, but of course no one else was there with that sort of equipment.  
  
The kiss broke and they looked out at the sea, puzzled. There was something glinting in the waves, shining like a lamp or a small sun, reflecting rainbows as it came riding out in the tide. Sören found himself taking off his boots and his socks, rolling up his jeans, and striding out to the water.  
  
"Sören!" Anthony shouted. "You said not to go close to -"  
  
"I KNOW WHAT I SAID," Sören yelled back, feeling vaguely annoyed. He knew the danger, but he still had to do this. He didn't understand why, but he waited. The shining came closer, closer... brighter.  
  
Sören bent to grab it as it rolled in. It was warm in his hands, almost too hot to hold, but not burning him. It was the size of a golfball, or a small egg. Sören picked it up in his cupped hands and the light was so bright he had to squint. Brilliant white light, with an iridescent flash more colorful and intense than something like labradorite or moonstone. It was like the stone itself had been made out of light.  
  
Sören's mouth went dry, his hair stood on end, a chill going through him that had nothing to do with the cold Arctic Sea washing his feet, the gloomy overcast day. It had everything to do with the fact that _he had seen this exact stone before._ But only in his dreams. Nonetheless, the stone was real, and the cold water running over his feet, the heat of the stone in his hands, meant he wasn't dreaming this.  
  
Sören came running back, both to escape before an undertow could get him, and because he needed to show Anthony. Anthony's mouth opened when he looked at the stone. He made a noise, but couldn't make words.  
  
"So you see this too? It's real." Sören passed the stone back and forth, casting rainbows over Anthony's face and body.  
  
Anthony nodded, mouth open. Finally he found his words. "That's... that's definitely some rock there."  
  
Sören snorted. "I'll say." Another chill went through him. His heart was hammering in his ears now. In a way, it would have been kinder if this _was_ a dream or hallucination, if Anthony wasn't seeing what he was seeing. The fact that he'd dreamt of this stone and it had come to him... meant that possibly, maybe those dreams weren't just dreams. Maybe they were actual memories.  
  
He didn't like what that implied. He didn't want reincarnation to be real, or anything involved with reincarnation or afterlives or gods or spirits, none of it. The idea that he and Anthony could have been elves, could have been part of the _huldufólk_ and maybe the reason why his people still believed in elves was because those old wives' tales had actually been history, somehow...  
  
Now it was Sören's turn to be speechless. He didn't know what to make of this. He thought about asking Anthony if he'd dreamt of the stones too, three of them, but he knew how crazy that sounded, even with the dreams they'd shared, and the answer to that - whether it was a yes or a no - was too much for Sören to handle right now. This, right now, was enough.  
  
He didn't know what was going on with the past, but here and now, he'd dreamt of the stone, and it had come to him. "Mine," Sören said, turning the stone this way and that to see the refractions, the play of the light. "Mine."  
  
Then he looked at Anthony, and hugged him tight. "Mine."  
  
Anthony let his cane fall to the sand - Sören could pick it up in a bit - so he could put both arms around Sören, hugging him even more tightly. "I love you," Anthony said, his voice husky, sounding like he was ready to cry. Like he'd witnessed something so miraculous that it was the only response one could have. Sören understood that feeling - he was on the verge of tears himself.  
  
Through his own tears, Sören replied, " _Ég elska þig, bróðir minn. Alltaf og að eilífu._ "  
  
  
_  
  
  
When they got back to Reykjavik, it was already evening, and Sören decided that he needed a drink. Or a few drinks. "Mind blown" was a cliche and yet it was the only way to describe his finding on the beach. On the ride back Sören had looked for pubs on his phone, to see where they could have a drink as-is, without having to return to the hotel and get dressed up.  
  
Anthony still tugged on Sören's sleeve anyway as Sören gave the driver instructions to the bar. "Shouldn't we... go back to the hotel and... put that away?" Anthony tapped the stone, secure in Sören's pocket.  
  
" _No,_ " Sören said, and then he felt a little self-conscious of his vehemence. He patted Anthony, to show he hadn't meant to bite Anthony's head off, and said more gently, "It... it'll be fine where it is, right now. I just need to... ah..."  
  
"I get it," Anthony said, and gave him a little kiss. "I didn't want you to worry about losing it, is all."  
  
 _If someone tries to steal it from me I'll rip their fucking EYES out,_ Sören thought to himself, and then he wondered why he was having that reaction, when he wasn't usually so territorial about his property. Yes, the stone was important - it wasn't just that it was probably very valuable, and he'd found it, and he was planning on taking it as a souvenir of the trip, but it also felt like _his_. He'd dreamt of it, and it had come to him. _Mine._  
  
The stone also made a strangely comforting warmth in Sören's jeans pocket, which helped to remind him it was real, even as unsettling as that knowledge was. Sören's jeans, and the long-sleeve T-shirt he wore, helped cover up the light, so hopefully that wouldn't attract potential thieves. Sören nonetheless felt a bit more guarded than usual as he and Anthony walked into the pub. He didn't like how on edge he was; he definitely needed that drink.  
  
Sören had Brennivín, and Anthony had a mojito. Anthony put a hand on Sören's arm and said, "Just one for you. I don't want you to be too drunk to consent." That cheeky grin was back on Anthony's face again as he discretely turned on the vibe to its lowest setting. Sören purred like the vibrator inside him, giving him a quick kiss before they sat down.  
  
As it turned out, they had come to the pub on a karaoke night, and watching people make drunken asses of themselves with bad singing and even worse dancing was so entertaining Sören didn't need more than one shot of alcohol to relax. Just one was enough to take the edge off... enough that Sören felt less inhibited and decided he was going to go up and sing. He decided on what they'd called their song, back in 2011 - what felt like ages ago now - "Never Too Much" by Luther Vandross. For the second verse Sören walked out with the mic to sing right to Anthony.  
  
 _Woke up today, looked at your picture just to get me started  
I called you up, but you weren't there and I was broken hearted  
Hung up the phone, can't be too late, the boss is so demandin'  
Opened the door up and to my surprise there you were standin'  
  
Well, who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar  
I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holler  
Love is a gamble and I'm so glad that I'm winnin'  
We've come a long way and yet this is only the beginnin'  
  
Oh, my love  
A thousand kisses from you is never too much  
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)  
I just don't wanna stop  
  
Oh, my love  
A million days in your arms is never too much  
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)  
And I just don't wanna stop_  
  
Anthony's eyes were too bright, and Sören got choked up too. To his surprise, when the song was over people clapped and cheered and whistled; some even got up to give him a standing ovation. "YOU SHOULD TRY OUT FOR EUROVISION!" someone yelled. Sören's face was on fire and he gave a nervous laugh.  
  
"SING ANOTHER SONG!" someone else yelled, and that got into a chorus of "Sing another song! _Syngdu annað lag!_ SING! _SYNGDU!_ SING! _SYNGDU!_ " from the audience.  
  
Sören looked around. "What do you think, everyone? Should I sing Queen? A little Freddie Mercury?"  
  
A burly man with country blond hair and facial hair began to shout in a thick Icelandic accent, "PLAY JAJA DING DONG!"  
  
"Oh... oh god." Sören laughed harder. "Oh no..."  
  
The man got more insistent. "PLAY JAJA DINGDONG!" He stood up and raised his fist. " _ **PLAY JAJA DING DONG RIGHT NOW!**_ "  
  
Sören looked over at the DJ and the DJ gave him a sympathetic look as he cued up a techno instrumental version of that song. Sören went back over to Anthony to sing to him.  
  
 _When I feel your gentle touch  
And things are going our way  
I wanna spill my love on you all day, all day  
  
Jaja ding dong  
My love for you is growing wide and long  
Jaja ding dong  
I swell and burst when I see what we become  
Jaja ding dong  
Come on, baby, we can get love on  
Jaja ding dong  
When I see you, I feel like ding-ding dong  
  
Love expands when I'm with you  
All over the milky way  
I wanna open up to you all day, all day  
  
Jaja ding dong  
My love for you is growing wide and long  
Jaja ding dong  
I swell and burst when I see what we become  
Jaja ding dong  
Come on, baby, we can get love on  
Jaja ding dong  
When I see you, I feel like ding-ding dong_  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony and Sören were still laughing as they got in the hotel suite.  
  
"Smooth," Anthony said, patting Sören's ass. "Very smooth."  
  
"I can show you how smooth." Sören took down his jeans and panties to show his bare ass, and wiggled it.  
  
Anthony laughed harder, before he slapped Sören's ass. He turned up the vibe higher, teasing him. Then he glanced over in the direction of the balcony. "You want to hit the jacuzzi before we... ding-ding dong?"  
  
Sören gigglesnorted, nodding.  
  
Anthony walked out to start the jacuzzi, then when he came back in they helped each other undress. Anthony pulled the plug out from Sören's ass, taking a moment to admire the hole primed and ready for him, and then Sören helped him into the hot tub.  
  
For a few moments they just snuggled in silence, looking up at the night sky, enjoying the heat and the bubbles.  
  
"I love you, you know," Anthony said, taking Sören's hand under the water.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
"This vacation has been... incredible. All of it." He glanced over at Sören, their eyes locking. "Especially today. You really did save the best for last."  
  
"Like Jaja Ding Dong."  
  
They laughed again. Anthony wiped his eyes. "That's not really an old-time Icelandic folk song, is it?"  
  
Sören shook his head. "The story goes we made it up to take the piss out of American tourists, and then it, you know, stuck. Something of a tradition now."  
  
"Strangely charmed by you singing it," Anthony said. "But then, your silliness has always been one of the things I love most about you."  
  
"One of the things? Tell me more," Sören said, leaning closer.  
  
Anthony smirked. "I love your dingdong."  
  
When they calmed down, they kissed. And kissed. The atmosphere quickly went from silly to sensual, the two kissing, necking, petting, reaching for each other's hard cocks under the water and stroking slowly. "I want you," Anthony growled, nibbling Sören's shoulder.  
  
"Then you shall have me."  
  
It was time for Sören to unveil a surprise he'd been planning since just before the trip - a plan for their final night in Iceland, to go out with a bang. After he stopped in the bathroom to clean up a little before their romp, he made a detour to his luggage. As he walked to the bed he saw Anthony laying there, watching him, cock standing proudly erect, already dripping precum. Sören resisted the urge to jump on the bed and start riding it, telling himself this would be worth the wait.  
  
"What's behind your back?" Anthony asked.  
  
Sören pulled his hands out from behind his back; there was a black silk scarf in each hand. "I want to give myself to you." Anthony hadn't tied him up since they'd gotten back together, and Sören felt it was time.  
  
Anthony swallowed hard, and blinked slowly. He seemed to understand what this implied - the trust they had rebuilt. "You're very sure."  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow. "No, I just took these out to put on a show." He began to twirl them around singing, "Jaja ding dong..."  
  
Anthony chuckled and crooked his finger. "Get over here," he said.  
  
Sören got on the bed beside him and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then Anthony took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him deep and hungry. Sören's cock jolted and his hole twitched, aching for relief, but he knew he had to be patient.  
  
Anthony took the scarves, and Sören lay back. Sören looked up at him with love in his eyes - and trust - as Anthony tied one of Sören's wrists to the headboard, then the other. Anthony took a moment to just look at Sören all tied up, breathing harder, cock slick with precum. He leaned in and kissed Sören again. "Thank you," Anthony husked.  
  
Anthony had a surprise of his own - he got up and came back with his straight razor. He held the blade to Sören's throat as they kissed again. "I won't hurt you anymore, Sören," Anthony said softly. "I promise." With that, he let the blade slide down Sören's neck - just enough to bite, not cutting. Sören shivered and let out a little whimper, balls tightening, cock throbbing, urgent.  
  
Anthony took his time, dragging the blade across Sören's flesh in the wake of his fingers and tongue as he worshiped every inch of flesh he could touch. He lingered at Sören's nipples, teasing them back and forth, licking, suckling, nibbling, tugging the rings with his teeth. His tongue took long, deliberate brush strokes at Sören's stomach and hips and thighs, nipping here and there, knowing how sensitive Sören was. His tongue traced the outline of the fireflower rose tattoo where Sören's hip and waist met, and as the blade grazed there Sören cried out, almost coming.  
  
"Will never hurt you again," Anthony whispered, planting a tender little kiss on the rose. "Never, ever hurt you again." He kissed his way back up, slowly, sweetly, sensually, the blade biting up and up and up, until he came to Sören's heart. Sören watched as Anthony leaned up and made a shallow cut with the blade over his own heart, just enough to bleed, and then, with blood on the straight razor, he made a shallow cut over Sören's heart. He leaned back down and Anthony bled where Sören bled, and Anthony brought the blade to Sören's lips. Sören opened his mouth and his tongue gently cleaned their mingled blood from the blade. "Blood of my blood," Anthony said, meeting Sören's eyes. "Brother in heart, lover of my soul."  
  
"Fucking fuck me."  
  
Anthony laughed. Sören laughed too - but he couldn't help it, he was ridiculously turned on by what Anthony had just done... and that feeling of surrender and trust was a powerful aphrodisiac. Anthony looked down at Sören's dripping cock, and he closed up the straight razor and dove down to just lick at Sören's cock, teasing him some more.  
  
"Oh god. Dammit, Anthony..." Sören bit his lip and let out a whine. It felt so good but he wanted to be filled, taken.  
  
"Mmmmmm. You don't want me to let all this delicious pre go to waste, do you?" Anthony chased the flowing drops down the shaft with his tongue.  
  
"Fuck..."  
  
Anthony smiled and continued licking Sören's cock, around and around the head, rubbing his tongue up and down the sensitive, prominent frenulum. Up and down the shaft, slowly, then faster. He took just the head of Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly, then after a few moments pulled the head out, collected more precum with his tongue, and gave the ring in Sören's head a little tug with his teeth before rubbing the frenulum some more, sucking at the head. Sören bucked and writhed, keening, feeling like even though he was restrained he could somehow climb the walls.  
  
At last Anthony gave in, coming up to kiss Sören again - rubbing his hard cock against Sören's as they kissed, letting Sören feel how much he wanted this, too. He reached over for the lube and began to finger Sören slowly, one slick finger, then two, then three, until Sören was thrusting against his fingers, begging "Please, please. Oh god, please. Please, fuck me..."  
  
With a kiss, Anthony pushed into him. When they were fully joined they both gasped, looking into each other's eyes. Tears came to Sören's eyes, feeling so much love for him - joy and relief that they were back together again, that Anthony had earned his trust, that things seemed like they would be OK...  
  
...that they were, somehow, two parts of a larger whole. That Nicholas was somehow part of that too. Sören couldn't make sense of it yet - he didn't know if he ever would. But as Anthony took him, Sören felt that it was completely, utterly right. Like the stone of his dreams, Anthony had been lost, and found again.  
  
And Sören wasn't going to let what was precious to him get away so easily.  
  
"You're mine," Anthony rasped as he thrusted harder, faster.  
  
"And you're mine." Sören leaned up a little - as much as the restraints would allow - to bite Anthony's neck. Claiming.  
  
Anthony growled and bit Sören's neck in return, pounding away. Sören felt himself rushing to that point of no return, and as they kissed they came together, falling, flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jaja Ding Dong" is of course not a real song, but a shout out to _The Story of Fire Saga_. I've been planning on having Sören sing this somewhere for awhile now XD
> 
> Also, this is a thing I made for the final chapter:
> 
>   
> 


End file.
